


Keep Running

by silentdescant



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape, Rape Recovery, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:16:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Killjoys love doing as much damage to BL/ind as they can, and until now, they've been lucky enough to avoid getting caught by Korse and his draculoid followers. But Korse's mission isn't to just kill them, it's to hurt them—hurt Gerard. And to do that, he uses Frank. After a traumatic, death-defying escape, Frank sets out with the guys to get revenge. In between the car chases and the gunfights, Frank has to let himself heal and figure how to return Gerard's feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep Running

**Author's Note:**

> For BandomBigBang Wave One, 2011
> 
> This is definitely an AU of the Killjoys universe MCR has created with their videos, so I'm just warning you in advance, this isn't fully compliant with everything we've seen.
> 
> Huge thank you to bexless for being an awesome beta, and thank you to philosiraptors and spuzz for the encouragement and inspiration while I was writing. ♥ And please check out the fanmix, [Chemistry of a Car Crash](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/405149.html), by dwg, [four illustrations of the fic](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/405388.html) by xanax_n_wine!

No one’s expecting it when Frank walks in. Gerard tries hard to wipe the shock off his face. It’s not like they thought he was dead—they’d hoped he wasn’t, but it had been early enough to still have hope—but they certainly didn’t think he’d just come waltzing back.

He’s not exactly waltzing, though. He’s gripping the doorframe tightly with one hand, and his other is curled protectively around his stomach. There’s blood smeared around his throat and matted in his hair, and bruises around his hooded eyes.

Gerard snaps out of his daze and goes to him. “Hey,” he says simply. He wants to ask if Frank’s okay—he obviously isn’t—but he doesn’t want to say the wrong thing and make Frank angry, or hurt him even more. It’s no secret that Frank’s a proud man; they’ve all gotten used to skirting around issues like this.

Frank slowly raises his eyes to meet Gerard’s. He opens his mouth.

“Frank?”

“Help me,” he whispers. Frank takes a halting step into the building and almost immediately falls to his knees. Gerard catches him around the waist and slows his fall, lowering them both to the ground. Frank smells like blood and vomit, and like the sharp tang of electricity.

“Mikey? Ray?” Gerard calls. He tries to keep his voice steady and calm, for Frank’s sake, but Mikey and Ray both appear at his side instantly, like they’d been waiting.

Ray scoops Frank up and carries him into the main room while Mikey closes and locks the door. He and Gerard then gather all the medical supplies they have and go to Frank, where he’s spread out on the floor. Ray kneels beside him, looking stricken.

“How did you get here, Frankie?” he asks softly.

“Please don’t tell me you walked,” Mikey adds under his breath.

“You took the fuckin’ car,” Frank mumbles. Gerard bends over him and starts peeling away the tattered remains of his shirt and vest. There’s a wound in his stomach that he’s still clutching desperately, but that seems to be the worst of his injuries.

“We were gonna come back for you,” Gerard says. It’s important that Frank hears that, and hears it from him. “We just needed to resupply. We were going to come after you tonight.”

“‘Cause you’re fuckin’ idiots,” Frank says. Gerard tries to pry his hand away from his stomach and Frank winces and groans. He freezes suddenly and stares up at them with wide eyes. “They could’ve followed me.”

Gerard glances up at the others. “Go out there. Five mile radius, take the car.”

“But you—”

Gerard catches Frank’s eye. He looks relieved. Gerard nods at Mikey. “I can handle this. Go out and patrol, and lead them away from here if you need to.”

Mikey rises smoothly. Ray follows his lead, a bit more reluctantly. “I’ll turn the radio on for you,” Mikey says.

“We’ll be fine,” Ray adds. “Take care of him.”

They’re out the door seconds later, guns strapped to their thighs and helmets hanging from their arms. Gerard hears the car roar to life and speed away; he waits for the dust to settle before he meets Frank’s eyes again. He asks what happened with a simple raise of his eyebrow.

“Gee, please—”

“Let me see.” Gerard takes Frank’s hand and this time Frank doesn’t resist. Gerard exposes the gash on Frank’s stomach—a knife wound, or at least made by something sharp—and holds Frank still when he cries out and shakes. The wound is bleeding freely.

“What happened, Frank?” he asks as he swipes away the blood with a cloth. Frank writhes under him, tears streaming from his eyes.

“I can’t, I can’t, please don’t make me, please,” Frank moans. His arms flail and he grabs at the floor, Gerard’s knee, Mikey’s discarded jacket.

“Hold still, Frankie, just for a minute. You’ll be okay, I promise.”

Gerard works quickly, disinfecting the wound and ripping away the rest of Frank’s shirt to give him more room. He takes out the needle and sutures and has to steady himself with a deep breath. It has to be done, and he tells himself to get the fuck over his stupid fear. Frank needs this.

“Ready?”

“Fuck,” Frank groans. “No. Fuck, Gee, please—”

“I need to do this, Frank,” Gerard insists. “Come on, you can hold still for me, come on. Hold on to me if you need to.”

Frank grabs Gerard’s thigh, just above his knee, and Gerard can feel his nails dig in even through his jeans. He waits until Frank grits his teeth and turns his head away before pushing the needle through the edges of Frank’s skin. He moves mechanically; it hurts him to watch, even knowing that it’s the right thing to do, and he has to force himself to keep his eyes on his work. If Frank can do this without screaming, Gerard can too.

Frank does babble pleading nonsense the entire time, though; he only quiets when Gerard tapes gauze over the wound and wraps a bandage all the way around Frank’s torso. He looks even more exhausted than when he first stumbled into the hideout.

“They—there’s a—message,” Frank gasps. “Wanted me—tell you—”

Gerard bends low over him and takes Frank’s face in his hands. “What is it, Frankie?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know,” Frank says. “Just wanted me to tell you—what happened. I don’t know. I don’t know. Wanted to kill me. I don’t know.”

“They must not have wanted to kill you if you’re supposed to deliver a message,” Gerard replies soothingly. “What did they say to you, Frank? Tell me what they told you.”

“They _didn’t_ ,” Frank moans. “I don’t know why. They just said. You need to know. I don’t know why, Gee, please, it hurt so much, I don’t want to.”

Gerard sits back on his heels for a moment. He leaves his hands on Frank’s face, because Frank’s pushing into them and gripping his arms and it seems more of an effort to take them away, at this point. “They wanted me to know what they did to you?” he asks. “What did they do to you, Frank?”

“There was—rooms, lots of rooms, I got lost, I don't know where—”

“It's okay, Frank,” Gerard interjects quickly. “You're here now, okay, just tell me...”

“They got me when we split up.” Frank takes a deep, shuddering breath and his hands fall away from Gerard's arms. Gerard releases Frank as well and moves to pet his hair instead. Frank flinches away with a quick jerk of his head, which makes Gerard frown and comb his fingers slowly over Frank's scalp, feeling for bumps or cuts.

“Where does it hurt, Frank? Do you have a concussion?”

Frank bats his hands away. “No, just. Don't. I don't want that.” He laces his fingers with Gerard's, instead. Gerard stares down at their joined hands, still frowning.

“Frank?” he asks slowly.

“The dracs took me away from you,” Frank murmurs. He's also looking at their hands, Gerard notices. He can't decipher Frank's expression through the bruises and the pain, though. Frank takes another deep breath, steadier this time, and continues. “I heard you drive away.”

“Frankie—”

“You were gonna come back,” Frank finishes. “I know. I _know_ , but...” He reaches up with his free hand and wipes fresh tears from his eyes. “I lost it. I freaked. They grabbed me and—I don't know. I don't know, I was just on the ground, and I couldn't move, and you weren't there anymore, and—”

Gerard rolls down to lie beside him and takes Frank's hand in both of his. He did the right thing, leaving Frank. They didn't have the manpower or the gun-power to save Frank or even themselves; they had to leave. They _had_ to. He'd done the right thing to protect his gang, but it didn't sit right with Gerard when he'd done it, and it still doesn't now. He squeezes Frank's hand. “I'm sorry, Frank.”

“I passed out,” Frank replies in a low voice. “I woke up in the room. There was—a bed. He was there. He was in the room.”

Gerard's blood runs cold. “Korse? Korse was there?” Frank nods his head and shuts his eyes tight. Gerard squeezes his hand again. “What did he do, Frankie? What did he say?”

“He didn't say anything,” Frank whispers. “Not at first.”

“How long were you there?”

“I don't know.” Frank opens his eyes again and stares at Gerard. “I don't know, I don't know.” He keeps repeating it until Gerard shushes him. He doesn't want Frank to start crying again, not now that he seems to have himself under control.

“What did he do?” Gerard asks carefully.

“I don't know—”

“You _do_ know, Frank.”

“I don't know—”

“Frank, tell me,” Gerard says. He's mostly just impatient, but it comes out as anger in his voice and Frank shrinks away, his fingers going lax in Gerard's hand. Gerard pets the back of his knuckles a little and Frank wrenches his hand away.

“I don't know! I don't know! Stop!”

“Stop what, Frank? Tell me!”

“He took my mask!” Frank shouts. He backs away from Gerard, squirming on the bloodstained and dusty floor, and Gerard can see how much it hurts him, but he doesn't stop. He twists onto his side and pushes himself to his knees, but his arms won't hold him and he goes down hard, clutching his stomach. He tears at the edges of the bandage, frantic, and Gerard recognizes the mindless panic in Frank's eyes. He's going to rip out his stitches without even realizing it.

Gerard lunges at Frank and traps his hands, forcing them out and away, where he can't hurt himself. Frank's shouting at him, screaming at him to stop, that he doesn't know, nonsense, Gerard can't even understand him anymore. He holds Frank's wrists tight, pinning him to the floor and using his knee to keep Frank's hips still.

“Frank!” Gerard shouts through the noise. “Look at me!”

The panic subsides, replaced by fiery anger. Frank exhales harshly, jaw clenched and nostrils flaring, and relaxes. It's sudden; the tension disappears from his body and his hands spread open, loose in Gerard's grasp. Even his face goes lax; his eyebrows lift and his forehead smoothes out, and his mouth opens in a soundless gasp.

“You're okay, Frankie, it's just me, it's just me,” Gerard murmurs. He eases his hold on Frank and ducks his head to brush his lips across Frank's cheek as he talks. “It's okay now, you're here with me. You're safe now. You're okay. Don't hurt yourself, Frankie, please just relax. It's just me.”

“He took off my mask,” Frank whispers. “I saw his face. He smiled. The whole time, he smiled.”

“Are you gonna fight if I let you up?”

Frank shakes his head minutely. Gerard waits a moment, then rolls off him. True to his word, Frank doesn't struggle. He lies there on the ground, hands stretched up above his head, breathing heavily. Gerard sits up.

“He touched my hair. He kept—he kept petting my hair and—he pulled my hair—I thought—it _hurt_ —I thought he'd cut it.”

Gerard gives Frank a tentative smile. “It's 'cause he doesn't have any of his own. I'm sure he's fascinated.”

Frank starts to laugh. It takes a while for Gerard to realize that it's not amusement, it's hysteria. Frank's back arches off the ground, his shoulders shake and press into the floor, but his hands remain loose and open, resting above his head. His wrists look pressed down, though. His feet are firmly planted on the floor as well, knees raised and spread, and that's when Gerard finally notices that Frank's favorite pink belt is missing.

Frank's still laughing, spread out on the floor. A faint red stain is starting to seep through the bandage on his stomach. Gerard heart skips a few beats. He rocks forward onto his hands and knees and hunches over Frank, trying to get his attention without startling him.

“Frank. Frank,” he says quietly. “Frankie, look at me. Frank!”

“What?!” Frank shouts. He's suddenly not laughing anymore. He stares up at Gerard with that fire back in his eyes, and Gerard's almost glad to see it.

Gerard swallows. “Frank, did he touch you?”

“They all _touched_ me, Gerard,” Frank grinds out, eyes flashing.

“Don't lie about this, Frankie,” Gerard says quietly.

“He took my belt,” Frank says, after a moment.

“I know.”

“He tied my hands with it.”

“What happened then?”

Frank breaks eye contact. “He didn't even take off my _shoes_ ,” he murmurs, like that's the most indecent thing Korse had done.

Now that Gerard knows what to look for, the signs are obvious. Barely-there bruises around Frank's wrists and throat, bruises that will probably deepen and darken by tomorrow, and the broken zipper on his jeans.

“He talked about you,” Frank whispers. “He told me you left me. But I already knew.”

“I didn't leave you, Frankie, I was coming back for you, I swear,” Gerard replied pleadingly.

“He said I deserved it.”

“Frank—”

“He said I needed it. I thought I shouldn't have fought. I thought I had to be punished. I thought I was an example.”

“Frank, you're _not_ —”

“No, I'm not,” Frank agrees. There's a pained look in his eyes, now, when he glances fleetingly up at Gerard. “He meant you.”

A chill runs down Gerard's spine. He sits back on his heels, shaking his head.

“He did this to you,” Frank says.

“He didn't.” He didn't, it's true, but Gerard knows what Frank means. “He never touched me.”

“He did _this_ to you,” Frank says again. When he catches Gerard's eye again, he holds it. Gerard can't break the contact. Frank's voice breaks on his next words. “He hurt me for _you_.”

“No.” It's a weak protest. “He didn't know.”

“He knows.”

“He _can't_ know.”

“Do you love me?” Frank's voice is soft and throaty, and his eyes are watery again.

“Of course I love you, Frank, don't be stupid,” Gerard growls in frustration.

“He _knows_. He knows you love me best.”

Gerard crumples to the ground, hunched over his knees until his forehead touches the floor. “I'm sorry,” he gasps into the darkness. “I'm sorry, Frankie, I'm sorry, he shouldn't have known. I'm so sorry.”

“I had to get out. He cut me. I slept for a while. I woke up and he was gone. Everyone was gone. I got lost. I don't know how I got out. I don't know where I was. I found the road. I came here. I had to find you,” Frank says in a monotone.

The sound of the trans-am pulling up outside startles Gerard, but Frank doesn't seem to notice. Gerard hurries to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes, trying to relieve the burn of tears. He hears Mikey and Ray slamming the car doors, hears the crunch of their boots in the dirt. He greets them at the door.

Mikey scans his face critically but makes no comment. Ray looks beyond Gerard, into the room. “Frank?” he asks.

“He'll be okay,” Gerard replies shortly. “Did you find anyone?”

“A few dracs out by the zone border, but they were heading the opposite direction. We just watched from a distance,” Mikey explains. “Nothing else in our radius.”

Gerard wonders how Korse got into their zone without them or Dr. Death knowing. They must be learning how to move secretly. He distantly recognizes that this will only make things harder in the future, but he can't bring himself to plan ahead or even care right now. Mikey and Ray brush past him and go to Frank, both of them sliding to their knees a careful distance away.

“Hey, Frankie,” Mikey says.

“You okay, man?” Ray asks.

“Gee stitched me up,” Frank replies in a flat voice. “They cut me to keep me from going anywhere, but that didn’t stop me.”

“Fucking badass, man,” Mikey says appreciatively.

“Did you walk all the way here? Where did they take you?”

Frank’s eyes flick over to Gerard’s, briefly. “I don’t know,” he whispers. “I’m just glad I found my way here.”

Gerard shakes his head to clear it and taps Mikey on the shoulder. “We should move, it’s not safe here. Start loading the car; me and Ray are gonna find a new hideout.”

“What about me?” Frank asks. He raises his eyes to Gerard again, but he won’t meet Gerard’s gaze.

“Rest,” Gerard says simply. He ignores Frank’s huff of protest and follows Ray to the table where they’ve spread out the zone maps. He forces himself to focus when Ray starts pointing out the areas where they saw the dracs retreating, and the places Dr. D has sent them in the past.

“Our best bet is probably around here,” Ray says, gesturing. “We’re getting close to Battery City, but—”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ll go where we have to go,” Gerard replies.

Ray leans in close and cuts his eyes back to Frank, who’s idly fingering the bandage around his stomach. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Gerard gives Ray a hard look. “He’ll be fine,” he says lightly. “He’s Frank.”

“Is he up for an eight hour drive?”

“Does he have a choice?”

Ray sighs his defeat and goes outside to help Mikey load up the car. They’re running low on supplies; it’s probably for the best that they’re heading towards the city. As dangerous as it is, they’ll at least have a better chance of crossing paths with other zonerunners.

Gerard rests his ass against the table, pushing the maps out of the way so he can lean back. “Did you know?” he calls to Frank. “About me?”

Frank shakes his head.

“How did he know?”

“So it’s true?” Frank asks. He turns his head to face Gerard. “How long?”

Gerard makes a face. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not like—”

“If I’m gonna be the fucking superhero’s girlfriend, I think I deserve to know. It matters to me.”

“I never wanted anyone to get hurt because of me,” Gerard murmurs. “It’s not fair.”

“Fucking right it’s not,” Frank says vehemently. He coughs. “I break the law just as much as you. They should be hurting me for _me_.”

Gerard chokes on a surprised laugh. “Motherfucker.”

“Is that why you never told me?”

“One of the reasons,” Gerard admits. He pushes off from the table and stands over Frank. “We’re gonna be driving all night; can you handle it?”

“Whatever,” Frank replies.

Gerard turns around and gathers up the maps. His hands hover over his mask. It’s his identity, his persona, something he’s developed over time, since they first started running. They’ll need to get Frank a new one. His heart breaks a little at the thought.

“I’m sorry about your mask,” he says.

“Gee?” He pauses but doesn’t wait for Gerard to face him again. “Don’t tell them, okay?”

“I wouldn’t,” Gerard replies shortly. He takes the maps out to the car without looking down at Frank again.

Mikey slams the trunk closed as Gerard walks out to them. He gives Gerard a calculating look, but again, he doesn’t say anything. Gerard knows he won’t, not until they’re alone. Ray’s leaning against the passenger door, where he usually sits.

“You want me to drive?” he asks carefully. “You can sit in the back with Frank, this time.”

“Mikey can sit with him.”

“Gee, let me drive,” Ray insists.

“You could use the rest too, y’know,” Mikey adds, nodding at him. “You’ve been running hot all day.”

Gerard thinks of Frank’s matted hair spread across his thigh, his own hand on Frank’s shoulder. Frank’s feet sticking out the window so he can stretch out. That thought leads to others: the blood in Frank’s hair, the bruises around his throat. The missing pink belt. Gerard’s hands clench.

“I should drive,” he says again.

“He doesn’t want me to sit with him, Gerard,” Mikey whispers.

Ray wordlessly moves around the car and stands by the driver’s seat. Mikey gets into the passenger seat and raises his eyebrows defiantly.

Gerard heads back to the hideout with a sigh. He finds Frank pushed halfway up on his hands, breathing harshly through clenched teeth. Gerard rushes to his side and supports Frank’s back.

“What are you doing?” he asks in alarm.

“I need to—”

“You shouldn’t be moving,” Gerard says firmly.

Frank slumps against Gerard’s hand. “I walked all the way here,” he says softly. “I should be able to… get _up_ , at least.”

“Frankie, you were pumped full of adrenaline and god knows what else. You’re exhausted and hurt and—and you shouldn’t make it worse, okay? Please?”

Frank grasps Gerard’s free hand tightly. “They didn’t give me anything.”

“You can’t be sure—”

“They didn’t give me their fucking happy pills, alright? Do I look happy to you? I’m not fucking high, don’t treat me like that.”

“I’m not treating you like you’re high,” Gerard protests.

“No, that’s right, you’re treating me like a fucking victim.”

“Frank, don’t do this.” Gerard slips out from under Frank and lets him slide to the floor.

“They ruined me, didn’t they?” Frank asks, staring straight up at the ceiling. “You can’t even look at me without thinking of him, admit it.”

Gerard forces himself to look. He tries to push the bruises on Frank’s face out of his mind and just see _Frank_ , the same way he’s always been. It almost works. “I’m not the one afraid to look,” he whispers.

Frank takes a breath. It sounds like he’s about to cry again, but Frank doesn’t let it show on his face.

“Are you afraid?” he asks.

“No,” Frank breathes. Gerard can tell he’s lying, or at least denying the truth. “They used me. _He_ used me, and it worked, and. I just—I _hate_ that I hurt you.”

Gerard doesn’t reply. He slides his hand under Frank’s arm and lifts him into a sitting position. It takes a little more work to get him standing; Frank sags against him, arm wrapped tight around Gerard’s neck, and they walk slowly out to the car. Gerard gets in first and pulls Frank with him as he slides across the bench seat. When Frank has his feet on the bench, Gerard leans across him to pull the driver’s seat back into place. He squeezes Frank’s knee as he sits back down.

Frank raises his eyebrows a little when Ray starts the car and swings it out onto the road.

“Mikey said I needed to rest,” Gerard explains in a low voice. He can’t quite resist brushing a lock of hair off Frank’s forehead.

“Don’t,” Frank says automatically. He reaches up and takes Gerard’s hand. “I mean, not yet.”

Frank touches his lips to Gerard’s knuckles. Gerard opens his mouth in surprise, but then Frank laces their fingers together and rests them on his chest. He closes his eyes and breathes out a sigh.

Gerard closes his eyes as well and tilts his head back against the seat. The wind from the open front windows blows his hair off his face. Not yet isn’t never, and he’s used to waiting.

***

Frank heals pretty quickly, thanks to Gerard’s insistence that he rest and take it easy. Of course, after several days of resting and taking it easy, Frank starts to bristle at them. That progresses into fights—all verbal, because none of them want to engage Frank physically, especially while he’s injured—and then Gerard gives up and grudgingly allows Frank out with them again.

“Thank fuck,” Frank mutters under his breath as they pack up the car. “We’ve been hiding out for too goddamn long.”

“We haven’t been hiding out,” Gerard snipes back, “we’ve been scouting and resupplying—”

“You might have been, but I haven’t been allowed out of this stupid safehouse.” Frank kicks at the leg of the table, then slams his fist down on it when it doesn’t topple.

“Frank—”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Frank growls. “I gotta get the fuck out of here. This is driving me fucking crazy.”

Mikey comes inside, panting, and tells them about the broadcast he just heard on the radio. “Zone four,” he says. “They’re raiding every safehouse along the border and sweeping in, all at once. We gotta move, guys.”

“You almost done in there?” Ray shouts from outside. Gerard hears him slam the car doors shut.

“Mikey, with me. Frank, get in the car,” Gerard orders. Frank glares at him. “ _Now_ , Frank, we don’t have time for this.”

Frank grabs the shit off the tabletop and makes his way outside, still moving far slower than Gerard likes. It’s not safe to have Frank fighting with them again, not yet. Mikey snaps his fingers in front of Gerard’s face to get his attention and they both buckle down, removing every trace of themselves from the abandoned diner.

When they get outside, arms full of ray guns and ammo, Ray leans over from the passenger seat to start the car. Mikey slides into the backseat and Gerard dumps everything he’s holding onto Mikey’s lap before diving into the front and throwing the car into gear.

“They’ll catch up with us,” Ray warns. “Dr. D couldn’t even keep up with the tip line calls, they were coming through so quickly.”

“They must know we’re here. How could they know? We haven’t even done anything since Frank—”

“Shut up, Mikey,” Gerard growls. “It doesn’t matter how they know. We just gotta get out of here.”

After a moment of quiet, Frank leans forward and touches Gerard’s arm. “It does matter, Gee,” he says under his breath. “We gotta figure that shit out, or they’re gonna keep finding us.”

Gerard trains his eyes on the rearview, scanning the horizon for any sign of the dracs. Their SUVs kick up plumes of dust out in these zones, which is one of the many reasons Gerard likes to stay away from the city. They’ll head out, he decides. Across the fucking country, if they have to. Anywhere to keep his boys safe.

***

They drive the rest of the day and well into the night, only stopping twice to refill the gas tank with the reserves they keep in the trunk. Gerard eventually gives up driving because he can’t keep his eyes open. They play musical chairs; Ray slides over into the driver’s seat, Mikey hops out and gets in the passenger seat, and Gerard walks around the car to join Frank in the back. Frank leans on him once he sits down.

“You doin’ okay?” Gerard asks, low enough that Ray and Mikey can’t hear.

“I’m fine,” Frank answers. He sighs and wiggles around for a minute, making himself comfortable using Gerard’s shoulder as a pillow. Then he turns his head and Gerard feels warm, damp air against his ear.

“They knew we were in zone four today,” Frank whispers. “They knew we were passing the fill station when we got split up. They knew about _you_.”

“Frank—”

“This is a _problem_ , okay?” Frank says vehemently. “They know things that—that _hurt_ us.”

Gerard closes his eyes and exhales slowly. “I don’t know how they knew.”

“Well, you gotta fucking figure it out, Gerard. I can’t do this, not if they’re always one step ahead. Might as well fucking give up now—”

“Don’t say that. Don’t you dare fucking say that, Frank Iero,” Gerard says, grabbing a handful of Frank’s shirt and gripping it hard.

“Figure it out,” Frank says again. He puts his hand over Gerard’s, slotting his fingers in the dips between Gerard’s knuckles. He squeezes once and Gerard lets go.

“Lay down, Frankie,” Gerard murmurs. “You need the rest.”

“I’m not the one falling asleep at the wheel,” Frank replies. He reaches up to Gerard’s shoulder and pushes him down a little. “It’s your turn to rest.”

Frank’s thighs are hard and tense as bowstrings when Gerard finally lays his head down on them. He wants to touch Frank’s knee, rub his legs through his jeans, make him calm down somehow, but the logical part of Gerard’s mind knows that’s a fucking awful idea. He resettles and drops a kiss to Frank’s leg instead, just above the knee.

Frank’s hand moves hesitantly to Gerard’s hair. He strokes his fingers through it a few times, combing out the easy tangles, and then slides his hand down to Gerard’s shoulder. After a few minutes, his legs relax beneath Gerard’s head, and Gerard finally closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

***

They make it through the night without incident, but as soon as the sun rises, they see the plumes of dust that warn them of the dracs’ impending arrival. Gerard leans forward, between the two front seats, and directs Ray to the nearest copse of dead trees and bushes. Ray pulls the car in and they all jump out, grabbing gear from the trunk at record speed. Mikey and Ray, each with their helmets on, start charging the guns and loading the ammo. Gerard pulls Frank aside.

“You up to this?” he asks quietly. “It’s okay to say no.” Gerard wishes Frank would say no, but Frank never, ever will.

“Yeah, I’m fucking ready.”

“Fan out,” Gerard calls over his shoulder. “Take cover where you can. We’ll be ready for them when they get here.”

Ten minutes later, silence falls over them. The dracs make their final approach on foot; it’s easier for them to sneak up on zonerunners that way, without their distinctive, noisy vehicles signaling their arrival.

Frank stands up from his hiding spot behind a bush. He takes the first shot; a blast from his ray gun hits one of the dracs square in the back of the head and he falls to the ground. The others turn to Frank and draw their weapons.

Frank’s got nowhere to run and they all know it. Gerard sees red and charges, body-slamming one of the dracs and shooting at another. They hit the dirt. The noise picks up as Mikey and Ray join the gunfight and the remaining dracs return fire. Gerard tries to keep his eye on Frank, but he’s having so much trouble avoiding the blasts that he loses sight of him.

“Frank!” he shouts.

“There!” Mikey answers, pointing.

Gerard whips around and sees Frank and a draculoid locked in a fistfight. Frank’s bright green gun is lying several feet away, out of reach. Gerard runs toward them, his arm outstretched and his finger on the trigger.

“Frank, move!” Gerard calls. Frank ducks; Gerard shoots. The drac goes down and Frank’s left standing, panting, blood soaking through the front of his shirt where Gerard guesses his stitches have ripped.

It’s over a few minutes later. They make their way back to the car, out of breath and jittery with adrenaline, and collapse back into their seats. Gerard stays in the back with Frank and Ray takes the wheel without question.

“Just… drive,” Gerard tells him wearily. It doesn’t matter where. The cameras and zone sweepers will pick up the dead dracs in under an hour; they just need to be far away from here when it happens.

***

They keep moving, cycling through Ray, Mikey, and Gerard taking their turns in the driver’s seat, until the car runs out of gas and the reserve tank in the back runs dry. They pull off to the side of the road and all except Frank climb out and gather around the car.

“We can try to put a call in to Dr. D,” Mikey says, already reaching through the open window for the radio. “We’re close enough to the city, maybe there’s someone around.”

“We’re sitting ducks out here,” Gerard mutters. There’s nothing they can do about it, either.

“We’re really not that far from the city,” Ray adds. “We’ve been going around, for the most part. Maybe I could head in and pick up enough gas to get us to the next supply drop.”

“Not by yourself,” Frank calls from inside the car.

Gerard leans his ass against the hood. The metal’s hot under him. “Frank’s right,” he says. “You can’t go alone.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Mikey says. “We can’t leave them like this, out in the middle of the desert.”

“Who says it’d be—”

“Of course it’s gonna be me and Ray,” Mikey snaps. “You’re not gonna leave Frank with either of us, and he certainly can’t come with us—”

“Hey!” Frank protests. He sticks his head out the window.

“Shut up. You aren’t healed yet and we all know it. Stop fucking pretending.”

Gerard raises his hands and everyone falls silent. He sighs. “See if you can contact Dr. Death, or maybe Cherri. They’re usually within city limits. If there’s no response by noon, you and Ray start heading into town. Frank and I will stay with the car unless we hear from you through the transmissions.”

“And if someone comes, send word and we’ll figure out a rendezvous,” Ray adds. “I don’t want you guys waiting out here for us to get back if you’ve got the fuel to find cover.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, start packing up. We’ll wait until noon.”

***

Frank pillows his chin on his crossed arms as he leans out the window to watch Ray and Mikey walk away. Gerard crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the car beside him.

“This is a bad fucking idea,” Frank mutters.

“Tell me about it.”

Frank moves to the front passenger seat. Gerard spends several minutes checking, double-checking, and triple-checking their supplies, then loads up a few guns just in case before sliding into the driver’s seat.

Frank turns to him. “Where do you think we are?”

“Hard to tell,” Gerard admits. “Somewhere along the zone two border, I think. It’ll probably take ‘em… a day, day and a half, to get to the outskirts of Battery City. Then again for them to get back, or longer, since they’ll be carrying stuff.”

They’re quiet for a moment, both watching the horizon. Mikey and Ray have completely disappeared into the distance.

“You think they’ll be able find us again?” Frank asks quietly.

“Ray’s a good navigator,” Gerard answers with a confidence he doesn’t quite feel. “He’ll get them back.”

They lapse back into silence. The radio’s on, but turned down low; all that’s coming across the airwaves is static.

“I should have told them,” Frank says after nearly an hour.

“Told them what?”

“I should have told them what happened to me. They needed to know, before they went out by themselves.”

“They’re armed, Frank—”

“They don’t _know_ , okay?” Frank takes a quick breath. “If they get captured, they’re not going to know, and they’re… they’re gonna…”

“Stop, Frankie,” Gerard whispers. “They’ll protect each other.”

Frank licks his lips several times, like he’s about to say something else. When Gerard notices Frank twisting his hands in his lap, he realizes it’s more of a compulsion.

“Frankie.” Gerard reaches over and covers Frank’s hands with his own, squeezing until Frank stills. “You don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to.”

“But you think I should.”

“I don’t think that. I think _you_ know what’s best for you.”

“Do you think…” Frank turns his hand and latches onto Gerard’s. “Do you think it would make me stop feeling like this?”

Gerard feels himself frown, even though he tries to keep his expression neutral. “No,” he says honestly.

“I feel… afraid… every time I think of it,” Frank admits. “I’ve never felt afraid before. I mean. Not like this. I’ve been scared for my life, when we fight. Scared for your life, and Mikey’s and Ray’s, but… this is different. I’m just…”

“It’s okay,” Gerard says. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“You should know. You need to know that I’m fucking—fucking _terrified_ all the time, okay?”

“Frankie—”

“That’s what I felt. That’s what it was, when I was in that fucking hotel. Fucking _terror_ , okay, and I can’t fucking shake it.”

It’s on the tip of Gerard’s tongue to ask what happened—to ask for details—but he can’t do that to Frank, and he’s honestly not sure if he could stomach the details anyway. He settles for holding Frank’s hand until Frank gets himself under control. Frank takes a few deep breaths and meets Gerard’s eyes.

“When we saw the dracs, all I could think about was what they did to me. I wanted to rip their heads off with my bare hands,” Frank says, and his fingers tighten around Gerard’s, like he’s demonstrating, “and fucking spit on their rotting bodies, but.”

“But?”

“But all I could feel was that fear.”

Gerard pulls his hand out of Frank’s grasp to drape his arm over Frank’s shoulders. “You did good, though. You didn’t freeze up, you didn’t flip out; you did good.”

“I didn’t.”

“You killed them, Frankie. You fought—”

“I didn’t wait. I couldn’t stop myself, I just stood up and pulled the damn trigger, and Ray almost got his head fucking blown off because I broke too early,” Frank explains quietly.

Gerard doesn’t remember that. He doesn’t really remember Ray in the fight at all. He bites the inside of his lip until he tastes blood. “But we all got out of it alive, so… you did good enough.”

Frank pops the latch on the door and tumbles out. “I gotta—I need air. I need to walk.”

Gerard sighs and lets him go. He glances around and sees nothing on the horizon, but he calls after Frank anyway. “Take your gun. Don’t go far.”

He means to give Frank some privacy—Frank obviously wants to be alone, or at least away from Gerard—but as he scans the desert around them, Frank keeps drawing his gaze. Gerard watches out of the corner of his eye as Frank walks away from the car, following Mikey and Ray’s bootprints. Frank goes out a good distance, far enough that they’d probably have to shout to hear each other, and drops to his knees.

Gerard tenses in his seat and automatically reaches for the door handle. Frank’s clutching his stomach, hunched over and facing away from the car, and his body convulses several times as he retches into the sand. When he finishes, Frank sits back on his heels and turns his face up to the sky to scream.

Gerard looks away when the sound reaches him. It breaks his heart to hear the frustration and rage in Frank’s voice and know there’s nothing he can do to fix it.

Frank stays out for a long time. Gerard keeps his focus on the static coming through the car’s speakers, but he glances over to Frank every few minutes. Well over an hour later, he sees Frank push himself to his feet and make his way back to the car.

Frank opens the door, slides into the seat, and slams the door closed again. Gerard wordlessly hands him a bottle of water, which Frank drinks greedily. He then holds the empty plastic bottle in his lap, and his hands move to cover his stomach.

“Are you bleeding?” Gerard asks quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“Let me check the stitches—”

“I can handle it,” Frank snaps.

“Okay.” They sit together in silence for a few minutes, and then Gerard says, “I’m gonna try to catch up on some sleep. You’ll keep watch?”

“Of course,” Frank replies.

Gerard gets out of the car and moves to the back seat. He dutifully closes his eyes and ignores the sounds Frank makes when he lifts up his shirt to rewrap his bandage.

***

Frank’s taking his turn in the backseat when Gerard spots Mikey and Ray on the horizon. He gets out of the car and charges his gun, just in case, but he doesn’t wake Frank yet. As they get closer, Gerard breathes a sigh of relief. They’re each carrying a can of gas, and they look tired but unhurt.

Mikey drops his can and throws his arm around Gerard. “Thought you might not be here,” he murmurs.

“Thought you might not come back,” Gerard answers, kissing Mikey’s hair.

“Is Frank in the car?” Ray asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard says. He pulls Ray into a hug as well. “He’s sleeping right now. How was…”

“We had to go into the city to find someone willing to give us supplies,” Ray tells him. “There’s not a whole lot of news flying around. I think we probably knew more than they did.”

“They did tell us there’s a safehouse not too far from here. Northeast; we were pretty much heading that way already. We brought back enough fuel to get us there, at least,” Mikey adds.

“How about you guys?”

“Dead quiet,” Gerard says. “We took shifts; neither of us saw anything.” He gives them a grin that feels natural on his face, his first real smile in several days. “Let’s fill ‘er up and get the fuck out of here.”

Gerard takes Mikey’s gas can and lets Mikey run ahead to wake Frank up. When he and Ray get to the car, Frank is clinging tight to Mikey and smiling with relief. Everything feels a little easier, a little safer, with the rest of their gang back with them.

Mikey flops into the backseat with Frank and passes out almost instantly. Gerard insists that Ray do the same, and then he goes through the motions of refilling the car and stowing the cans in the trunk. By the time Gerard slides into the driver’s seat, Ray’s leaning against the window, snoring.

“They said there’s a safehouse not far from here,” he tells Frank. “You ready to go?”

Frank meets his eyes in the rearview mirror and gives Gerard a wry half-smile. “I’ve been ready since we _stopped_. Start driving.”

***

They run headlong into a company of dracs only a few hours later. Gerard doesn’t see the white SUVs until he’s practically on top of them; he slams on the brakes and kicks up a shitload of dust and almost certainly gives away their position.

“Fuck!”

“Wake up, wake up,” Frank shouts, punching Mikey’s shoulder and kicking Ray’s seat all in one motion. “Get us the fuck out of here, Gee.”

Gerard makes a hard right and puts the pedal to the metal, hoping against hope that they can skirt around the SUVs before they’re noticed.

“They’re gonna fucking chase us,” Frank cries. Gerard hears the thread of panic in his voice and grits his teeth.

Sure enough, the three cars on the edge of the group speed into reverse and try to surround the trans-am.

“Guys!” Gerard shouts. “Guns, now!”

They have no experience fighting like this, and Gerard doesn’t even want to think about what kind of armor or blast-repellant coating those fancy SUVs have. Mikey, Ray, and Frank each grab their guns and start firing out the open windows.

A couple of the SUVs’ tires blow, but otherwise, their ammo does nothing.

“This isn’t gonna work!” Mikey cries. “We can’t get to ‘em!”

Gerard slams on the brakes again and the SUVs follow suit. Everything stops. Dust begins to settle around them.

“You guys gotta be ready,” Gerard says quietly. “They’re gonna get out and come to us. You gotta be ready.” He waits for a nod from each of them. “I’m gonna go straight through, okay? If we’re fast enough, we should be able to get straight through.”

“I don’t know if we can get enough speed to outrun them, Gee,” Ray murmurs.

“It’s a fucking muscle car,” Gerard snaps. “She can take it.”

The white SUVs closest to them shut off their engines. Doors open and Gerard hears the scuttling of feet on the opposite sides of the cars.

“Wait until they come towards us,” Gerard whispers.

“Jesus,” Frank says. “ _Fuck_.”

“Frankie—”

“I _got_ it.”

Amazingly, they mostly stick to the plan. The dracs show themselves around the cars, weapons drawn, and start to sneak closer to the trans-am. Gerard twists his hands around the bottom of the steering wheel. The first shot hits the taillight and Frank whips around, blasting without waiting to aim.

Gerard forces the car into motion and they speed through the blockade of SUVs. He brushes by two dracs along the way and lets out a gleeful laugh when they hit the ground and don’t get up. The rest of the dracs race back to their cars and then the chase is on, but Gerard thinks they have enough of a head start to lose the tail by nightfall.

They make it to the safehouse around midnight.

It’s an old truck stop, devoid of any life, but there’s a working radio and a basement store room full of canned food and bottled water, so it was probably abandoned intentionally. Gerard guesses the gas pumps still work; they can figure that out tomorrow. They hide the car in the service garage and douse all the lights, then they fan out to each corner of the property, eyes and ears alert for their tail.

A single SUV shows up an hour later. It skids to a halt just out of range and Gerard listens for the familiar sound of draculoid boots on desert ground.

There are three dracs and they walk right into the ambush. Ray takes one out before it even becomes a threat. The other two are on their guard, but they’re not prepared for Frank launching himself at them and bowling them both to the ground.

“Get out, Frank, get out!” Mikey shouts. They can’t get a clear shot with Frank in there.

Ray picks off a second drac like a sniper and it keels over. Frank wrestles with the last one for a moment and finally ends up on top of it, gun trained at its face. He’s about to take the shot when it reaches for its own gun.

Gerard moves on instinct. He aims and shoots without thinking and the drac goes limp beneath Frank.

Frank takes his finger off the trigger and staggers backward. He looks around at Gerard with wild eyes.

“Frank—”

“Don’t talk to me,” Frank snaps. He throws his gun on the ground beside the lifeless draculoid and storms inside the safehouse without a backward glance.

“What’s his problem?” Ray asks in a low voice. He comes over to Gerard and nudges his boot against the drac’s arm. “What happened?”

Gerard holsters his gun and shakes his head. “I took his shot.”

Mikey mumbles something and Gerard hears “fucking idiot” through the monotone. Mikey gives him an annoyed look, like they hadn’t just been fighting for their lives.

Gerard goes to the building and slips inside. Frank’s crouching in the center of the floor, fingers laced through his hair. He pops to his feet when he hears the door close behind Gerard.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard says, before Frank can even open his mouth.

“That one was mine,” Frank replies. “I had him.”

“I know, Frank, I’m _sorry_. It was instinct. He reached for his gun and I just… fired.”

“I was going to take the shot. I didn’t freeze up.”

“I know.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” Frank says.

“I know,” Gerard answers. He’s already apologized more than once. He watches Frank’s face contort with anger.

“You don’t have to—to fucking _save_ me all the time, Gerard,” Frank spits, stalking across the room.

Gerard stares down at his feet. “I know,” he says.

“I can handle myself.”

“I know.”

“If you _know_ so goddamn well, then why—why the hell do you always fucking _do this_?” Frank ends on a shout and swings around to shove Gerard in the chest.

Gerard stumbles back a few steps and clenches his fists. It’s not Frank he wants to fight. He takes a few deep breaths and says, very quietly, “I want to hurt them for what they did to you. I want to make them pay.”

Frank’s expression crumples and he shakes his head a little. “Don’t I deserve some revenge too?”

“Oh, Frankie,” Gerard breathes, stepping in to cup his hand around Frank’s cheek. “Of course you do.” When he swipes his thumb over Frank’s downturned lips, Frank closes his eyes.

He lifts his hand and threads his fingers through Gerard’s, gently pulling Gerard’s hand around to his mouth to lay a soft kiss on the heel of his palm. Gerard curls his fingers around Frank’s and Frank mouths at his knuckles, not quite kissing or licking, but dragging his lips over them, and then carefully scraping his teeth along the edges of the scabs.

“Frank,” Gerard whispers. “I love you, Frankie.”

Gerard twists his hand free and slides it up Frank’s throat, tilting his head back and rubbing at the corner of his jaw. Frank follows the motion easily, meeting Gerard’s lips with his teeth and his tongue. The kiss deepens for a brief moment; Frank’s panting through all the spaces they break apart, and his eyes are clenched shut. He makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat that urges Gerard on, but then Frank turns his head roughly to the side and grabs at Gerard’s wrist, yanking it down and away from his face.

He stays pressed up against Gerard, with his cheekbone mashed against Gerard’s mouth, but Gerard can feel the tension in his body. Frank rests his open palm on Gerard’s chest, like he’s about to push him away, but the push never comes. Gerard breathes a quick sigh of relief and settles his hands around the small of Frank’s back, loosely embracing him.

“I’m sorry,” Frank whispers.

“It’s okay. You’re okay now. I love you.” Now that he’s said it once, Gerard wants to slip into random sentences all the time. It feels good. He presses a kiss to Frank’s cheek and says it again. “I love you.”

Frank doesn’t answer—he never does when it’s something like this, something he can’t joke about—but Gerard doesn’t need him to. He just needs Frank to know he’s loved.

***

They stay inside the next day and sometime around noon, when the sun feels like it’s going to break through the glass windows and burn them all alive and the radio, which has just been transmitting static for nearly a week, crackles to life.

“I’m hearing stories,” a familiar voice begins.

Mikey nearly falls out of his seat in his mad dash for the volume knob. He cranks it up to the highest setting. The rest of them freeze in place and stare at the small radio. Waiting.

“I’m hearing stories from all over the zones,” Dr. Death Defying continues. “I’m hearing wild and crazy things, and I don’t believe them. You won’t either, my little motorbabies; it’s the stuff of nightmares. Mr. Korse is out of hiding.”

“What?” Ray asks in disbelief. Gerard throws him a confused glance before he remembers that Frank never told Ray and Mikey about seeing Korse at that hotel.

“He’s been spotted zonehopping,” says Dr. D. The transmission suddenly filters out the static and his rough voice is as clear as day. “My little spies say he’s on the chase. I think we all know his favorite prey.”

Mikey touches Gerard’s arm, drawing his attention. He sees Mikey’s subtle nod to Frank, his raised eyebrows, and he understands the question. Gerard nods.

“It seems Korse has a new course of action this time around. He’s baiting our favorite Killjoys, my babies. He’s baiting them and we all know they can never resist a good fight. Keep it moving and groovin’ and keep those reports coming. Stay alive, Killjoys.”

Static fills the airwaves again as Dr. Death signs off.

“Korse is the one following us?” Mikey asks quickly. “And you knew?”

“I… forgot,” Gerard replies honestly. “I’m sorry, I thought we told you.”

“I didn’t think of it,” Frank adds. The turbulence in his eyes tells Gerard that Frank’s been thinking of it since it happened. “I saw him. I told Gerard after I came back. I forgot that I didn’t tell you guys, I’m sorry.”

“You saw him?” Ray asks. “Frankie, what did he—”

“Nothing,” Gerard answers for Frank. “Let it go. He didn’t give Frank any information we didn’t already have.”

Frank stares down at his own hands, clasped neatly in his lap. Gerard watches him for a moment, until he realizes Ray and Mikey are watching Frank too.

“Alright, let’s get to work,” he says loudly. “Ray, can you mark the spots on the map where we’ve already encountered Korse’s zone sweep?”

“Sure,” Ray says slowly.

“He’ll be moving methodically…”

“The attack last night was that group fanning out,” Mikey adds. “They’re probably heading this way, now that those ones we killed haven’t responded.”

“It’s not safe here,” Gerard concludes. “Mikey, can you check on the car? Make sure everything’s fully stocked and locked. And fill ‘er up with gas. We might have to leave in a hurry.”

Mikey disappears out the door. Ray spreads his maps across the table Frank’s sitting at and takes the seat next to him. It’s on the tip of Gerard’s tongue to snap at Ray and make him move, but Frank doesn’t seem upset by Ray’s closeness. He doesn’t move at all. Gerard slides into the chair across from Frank and nudges his foot under the table. Frank doesn’t acknowledge the contact.

“Okay, show me,” Gerard says to Ray.

By the end of Ray’s briefing, Frank’s actually looking at the maps, so that’s progress. Gerard nudges him again with his foot, and this time Frank glances up—only for the barest second, but he meets Gerard’s eyes without hesitation.

They both turn their attention back to the map, at the mark for a warehouse that Ray’s finger still rests upon. Gerard looks up and nods at Ray. “We’ll go there,” he decides.

Ray nods back, a quick jerk of his head, and rolls up the map. Gerard slides out of his chair and takes Frank by the arm, leading him away while Ray cleans up.

“It’s always going to be more dangerous for you, now,” he tells Frank in a low voice. “The closer we get to him, the more he’s going to focus on you.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I know,” Gerard says quickly. It doesn’t matter if Frank can handle himself or not; he’s not going to be babied, and they can’t play it safe and avoid Korse forever. “I just need you to be in control, okay?”

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“I got it,” Frank repeats firmly. Gerard thinks of an hour before, when Frank withdrew so far into himself that he couldn’t even look Gerard in the eye, and squeezes Frank’s arm.

They leave while it’s still daylight. Ray sets a course back the way they came, heading deeper into the desert, hopefully throwing the drac search parties off their trail. Frank’s in the backseat, methodically checking each of the battery packs for the rayguns. He has a list stuffed halfway beneath his thigh with the battery serial numbers and the amount of charge each one has left written on it in red marker.

Gerard watches him work in the rearview, his eyes sliding away from the road every few minutes. Frank never catches him looking.

They drive for a few hours before the warehouse comes into view. It’s a long, flat box breaking up the horizon, and it doesn’t get any more interesting as they draw nearer. Ray tells them it used to be some sort of packaging plant, that’s what it was marked as on the outdated map, but that zonerunners have been using it as a hideout for the past few years.

“Why isn’t it marked as a safehouse?” Mikey asks, leaning in between the front seats to poke Ray’s shoulder.

“Because it’s not safe,” Ray replies bluntly. “It’s government-controlled, just abandoned. Apparently Korse has used it as a home base in the past. Runners can only use it if it’s empty, and if they keep an eye out for dracs. We can’t store any supplies there or anything.”

“So it should be the last place they’ll look for us, right?” Frank asks quietly.

“Unless Korse thinks we’re suicidal,” Ray confirms.

Gerard’s eyes flick to the rearview and he sees Frank staring back at him, his expression blank and his hair whipping wildly around his face. Gerard grits his teeth and breaks the stare, looking resolutely out at the road instead. He can feel Frank’s eyes on him for several long minutes, though.

They approach the warehouse around sunset and Gerard slows the car way down to a crawl as they circle the building. The first two sides are clear of any government vehicles, but then they round the second corner, still a good distance away from the building itself. Gerard slams on the brakes and throws the car into reverse to speed back out of sight.

They hadn’t been around the corner long enough to get a clear view, but Gerard caught sight of at least two drac-style SUVs. He parks the car and twists around in his seat to face everybody.

“Ray, you take left, check the last side. I’ll go around this way and see what we’re dealing with. You two,” he says to Mikey and Frank, “stay in the car and don’t fucking move, got it?”

Ray grabs his gun and his helmet and stalks off without a word of argument. Gerard snaps his eyemask over his face and holsters his own gun as he slips out of the car.

He’s barely taken two steps before he hears the car doors open and both Mikey and Frank tumbling out.

“You’re not going right into their fucking _nest_ alone,” Mikey hisses at him. Frank doesn’t speak, just gives Gerard a hard stare that says he agrees.

“Fuck,” Gerard groans. “I told you to stay in the fucking car.”

It’s clear that neither Mikey nor Frank has any intention of following Gerard’s orders, so he just sighs and keeps walking until he’s up against the side of the building. Mikey and Frank are both a few steps behind him. Gerard slows down so they can catch up as he reaches the corner of the warehouse.

He peeks around the wall, motioning for the others to stay back. He sees two of the SUVs, but that’s too small to be a hunting party, and there’s no reason for Korse to send a new search party to a building that’s already been swept. It’s weird, the whole situation, and it makes Gerard nervous.

There’s no movement around the cars; Gerard calls the coast clear and lets Frank and Mikey come with him around the corner. They start walking.

About halfway to the cars, Frank speeds up and moves in close to Gerard. “Gee, I have a bad feeling about this,” he murmurs under his breath.

Gerard replies, “Me too,” and neither of them slows down or turns back.

They’re nearing the bright, shiny SUVs cautiously, moving in a wide circle around them, heading for the whitewashed door set into the wall. Frank and Gerard both see the extra car at the same time. Frank freezes in place; Mikey smacks into him and they both stumble. Gerard stops as well and catches Frank’s arm to keep him on his feet.

“What the hell, Frank?” Mikey asks shrilly.

“Stay here,” Gerard tells Frank. He looks at Mikey. “Stay with him, and fucking _stay here_. I mean it this time.”

Gerard moves away, toward the entrance to the building, and Frank lunges after him, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “No! No, you can’t go in there, no, Gee, please, you can’t—”

“Just stay here,” Gerard says. He means to be comforting, but his voice comes out more forceful than anything. “Stay out of sight. I’ll be right back, I’m just gonna check it out.”

He breaks away from Frank and Mikey and sprints to the door, slowing as he reaches it to stay light and quiet on his feet. It opens easily for him; the hinges are well-maintained and whatever lock the door may have once had is busted. He slips into the dark room inside, gun drawn and finger on the trigger.

Most of the lights in the big, open packaging room are off, so it doesn’t take long for Gerard to follow the glow of office lights and find Korse. He’s in some kind of control room, with a bank of computers set into one wall and a conference table in the middle, and Korse is standing at one end with a drac on either side of him.

Gerard enters silently, aims his gun, and waits for Korse to notice him.

When Korse does look up and lock eyes with Gerard, he smiles and dismisses the two dracs.

“Party Poison. What a pleasure.”

“This is where it ends. I’ve had enough. You can’t—”

“What, are you upset I broke your favorite toy?” Korse taunts. He makes a weird little jerk of his head and his smile widens. He slowly moves toward the door directly opposite the one Gerard came through, and just when he reaches it, the two dracs come back with Frank hanging between them.

Gerard gasps and takes an instinctive step forward.

“Right on time. So nice of you to join us,” Korse tells Frank. Then he punches Frank in the stomach; the dracs release his arms and he goes down hard, slamming to his knees and gasping frantically for breath. “Where’s your mask, Fun Ghoul?”

Frank lashes out at Korse, throwing himself at Korse’s knees in an effort to topple him, but one of the dracs grabs a handful of Frank’s shirt and hauls him backwards.

Korse laughs. “Oh, that’s right. I slashed it up, didn’t I? Didn’t I, Frankie?”

Gerard catches Frank’s wince at Korse using his real name, and he takes another step forward and adjusts his grip on his gun. “Stop it,” he growls. “This was supposed to be between you and me.”

“Oh, but it is, _Gerard_ ,” Korse replies smoothly. He motions to the two dracs. “These two didn’t come here alone. Search the building.” He then casually draws his gun and levels it at Frank’s head.

The dracs disappear, leaving Frank on his knees, panting, clutching his stomach, and Gerard and Korse locked in a stand-off. As soon as the door closes, Gerard crosses the room and shoves his gun right in Korse’s face.

“You don’t want to do that.”

“Gimme a reason not to blow your fucking head off,” Gerard shouts. “You had no fucking _right_.”

“I have _every_ fucking right, Gerard Way. _I_ control these zones. You’re just the fucking roaches that refuse to die. Now, step. Back.”

Korse nudges Frank’s forehead with the gun. Gerard takes a step back. Korse breaks into a smile.

“I’m so glad my little bet paid off,” he says. “I kept thinking, _if only they had captured your brother_ , but then they brought me _Frank_ , and I couldn’t believe my luck. You’re so predictable, Gerard.”

Korse reaches for Frank with his free hand and grabs a handful of his hair. Frank cries out as Korse pulls him higher on his knees, and both his hands fly to where Korse is holding him.

“Let him go!” Gerard shouts automatically. He holds his gun with both hands and barely restrains himself from moving forward again. “Let him go!”

Korse drags Frank up to his feet—literally drags him, lifting him by his hair and making Frank scream—and then moves his hand to Frank’s throat. Gerard can see how deeply Korse’s long fingers are indenting Frank’s skin, and Frank’s cries choke off and he falls silent as he sucks in a breath of air and tries to claw at Korse’s hand.

Korse looks at Frank, but he speaks to Gerard. “Know that I’ve finally got you, Gerard Way. You’re like a fucking puppet. All I have to do is pull the right _string_ —”

Gerard watches, horrified but too shocked to even move, as Korse yanks Frank in and kisses him, forcing his tongue between Frank’s parted lips. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough for Korse to prove his point. He pushes Frank’s face away, after, and runs his fingers through Frank’s tangled hair.

“Shh, shh, pet. I’m not going to kill you yet. That’s for later.”

Frank is shivering, shaking violently, but he’s able to stand on his own feet. He doesn’t pull away from Korse’s hand in his hair, though. He doesn’t try to run away from him at all, even though Korse isn’t really holding him anymore.

“Please don’t, please let go, please,” Frank whispers. “Let me go.”

“Come with me,” Korse says. He leads Frank backwards towards the door and Frank stumbles after him. Korse brings his gun up and rests the barrel along Frank’s cheek. “It’s hard to let you go,” he says into Frank’s ear, though he pitches his voice so Gerard can still hear him. “You’re so much _fun_.”

Their backs are against the door, and Gerard takes a hesitant step towards them. If Korse takes Frank with him, there’s no doubt in Gerard’s mind that he will follow. But Korse doesn’t; he throws Frank to the floor and disappears out the door.

Gerard is too concerned with Frank to even bother running after Korse. He dives to his knees and skids to a halt beside Frank, rolling him carefully onto his back.

“Frankie, talk to me, Frank, are you okay, are you hurt?” he asks frantically. His hands hover over Frank’s stomach; his shirt is bloodstained and Gerard’s afraid to touch.

Frank’s hand shoots up and he twists his fist in Gerard’s t-shirt, yanking him down. “Don’t—don’t touch—I’m just—I’m okay,” Frank gasps.

The door across the room, the one Gerard came through, bursts open. Frank cries out and Gerard whips around with his gun raised, only to find Mikey and Ray pointing their guns right back at him.

“Jesus Christ, you scared us,” Gerard breathes. “Where the hell—”

“We ran into a few dracs across the factory floor,” Ray says. “Is he okay?”

“Korse?”

“No, _Frank_ —”

“He’ll be fine; _where is Korse_?”

“He was here?”

“Oh, god,” Gerard sighs. “He’s gone by now. We gotta get out of here.”

“Can he walk?” Mikey asks in alarm. “Is he okay?”

“You okay, Frankie?” Ray echoes.

“C’mon, Frank,” Gerard whispers. “Let us help you.”

Mikey hurries around to Frank’s other side as Gerard lifts him up. They each take Frank’s arm over their shoulders to help him walk, but Frank leans heavily on Gerard and clings to his shirt. Mikey eventually lets Gerard take over and pulls out his gun to guard them from the rear.

Sure enough, when they reach the parking area outside, Korse’s sports car is gone. Ray confirms that all the dracs left in the building are dead.

“We gotta get the fuck out of here,” Gerard mutters, scanning the horizon for incoming SUVs. Korse has almost certainly sent word of their location by now. “Safehouse near here?”

“I know of one,” Ray answers. “I’ll bring the car around.”

He dashes off around the side of the building, where they left the trans-am. Mikey whirls on Gerard.

“What the hell happened in there?” he asks angrily.

“Not now, Mikey,” Gerard replies firmly. “Just back the hell off.” His tone softens considerably as he turns his attention to Frank. “Can you lift up your shirt, Frankie? Let Mikey see the stitches, okay?”

“You’re never gonna let this fucking wound heal, are you?” Mikey says under his breath as he slides to his knees in front of Frank. He spends a moment examining the damage—Gerard closes his eyes and prays for the best—and finally says, “He should be fine, we just gotta get him a new bandage for it. Doesn’t need new stitches.”

“Thank fuck,” Gerard breathes. “I’m fucking done with sewing you up, alright, Frankie?”

“I’ll try not to get fucking punched in the stomach again,” Frank snaps. “Let go, let me go.”

Gerard releases him immediately. Frank stumbles without something keeping him upright, but he avoids Mikey’s outstretched arm and just takes a moment to regain his balance. He’s panting heavily, and his face is too pale to be normal.

Ray drives up with the car. Frank makes a beeline for it, wrenches open the door and crawls into the backseat.

“Don’t touch him, alright?” Gerard murmurs to Mikey. “Don’t touch his head, don’t touch his hair.”

“What happened?” Mikey asks slowly.

“I can’t tell you now. Just please, don’t… just listen to him, okay?”

Gerard sits in the front passenger seat for a while, letting Mikey stay with Frank in the back. It takes until sunrise to reach the safehouse, and Ray drives silently, his eyes on the dim road the headlights barely reveal. Gerard can hear Mikey whispering to Frank every few minutes, but Frank never answers him, and Gerard doesn’t know what Mikey’s saying. He doesn’t want to know.

They reach the safehouse. It’s an old diner; the kitchen’s gutted, no appliances left but the ones attached to the wall, and all that remains of the small dining area are the bench seats along the wall. Gerard steps inside and drops his bag to the floor. Ray moves across the room and flicks on a light.

“Will you be okay if me and Mikey go out on patrol?” he asks quietly. Gerard stares at him and Ray grimaces. “I just think… you should be the one to stay with Frank.”

Gerard nods. Ray crosses the room again and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder as he passes him by the door. Gerard hears the car start up again and drive off, and then the door opens.

“I’m sorry,” Frank says when he comes inside. Gerard turns around to face him. “I couldn’t let you go in there alone.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt again,” Gerard whispers. “I didn’t want him to know you were there.”

“He would’ve guessed, Gee,” Frank says sadly. “He knows things.”

“I’m sorry for—”

“I know. I know, you’re sorry, I’m sorry, we’re so fucking sorry we don’t know what to do with ourselves, I _know_ ,” Frank says. “Let’s just move on, alright? I wanna _fucking_ move on, I don’t want to deal with this stupid fucking _shit_ —” He spins and kicks the seat of the bench.

“Stop,” Gerard breaks in. “Stop, please.”

“Can we just—”

“Can we just what?”

Frank calms down and gives Gerard a weak smile. “I don’t want this to be hanging over my head, y’know? I mean—I mean, I love you. I fucking love you, and I just wanna… I just want to focus on that, y’know? Not all this other…”

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes. He can hardly believe his ears. He waits for Frank to speak again, and every second of silence seems to stretch on for an eternity.

“I want you to touch me,” Frank finally whispers. He takes a hesitant step towards Gerard and holds out his hand. “I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want you to be scared.”

“Yes—” Gerard moves in, meets Frank halfway. “Yes, Frankie, I want you so much.”

“I’m not scared.”

Gerard cups Frank’s face in both hands, hard enough that his fingers press into Frank’s cheeks, and he searches Frank’s wide, shocked eyes for a moment. Frank takes a deep breath and visibly calms himself down, and Gerard breathes a sigh of relief and brings their foreheads together. Frank clutches at Gerard’s jacket, his sweaty palms squeaking on the leather.

“Frankie, Frankie,” Gerard breathes, “I love you, I love you so much.”

“Gee, I need, I want—” Frank stops talking and surges in to mash their lips together. It’s a clumsy, desperate kiss, and once Gerard catches on, he turns his head and opens his mouth for Frank’s insistent tongue.

It’s like an electrical current connecting; desire—no, something more than desire; _need_ —courses through Gerard’s blood and he grabs Frank around the waist and hauls him in. Frank gives that and more; he hitches one leg up around Gerard’s hip and rocks against him, and Gerard can feel how much Frank wants this. He slides his hands down to Frank’s ass and lifts him, and Frank jumps up and wraps around Gerard completely, arms twined around his neck to keep their lips locked together.

Gerard staggers over to where he dropped his bag and they tumble to the ground. Frank yanks the sides of Gerard’s jacket and pulls him down on top, arching up so their chests are flush. Gerard slips his hands between them and undoes Frank’s pants, trying to get a fist around Frank’s cock, but Frank pushes at him urgently.

“Off, off, off, get them off,” he says in a high-pitched whine.

 _He didn't even take off my shoes_ , Gerard hears. He freezes, blood running cold, but Frank’s not pushing at him anymore, he’s pushing at his jeans.

“Shoes, shoes, Frankie,” Gerard says. “Shoes first.” He moves down and settles on his knees at Frank’s feet, reaching first for his right foot to untie the laces of his boots. Frank lets him take off the first shoe, but he kicks the second one off himself and extends his hands to Gerard, motioning him back up. Gerard ignores him for a moment in order to pull Frank’s tight jeans down his legs and throw them across the room.

Then Gerard stretches up over Frank and Frank wraps his legs around Gerard’s waist, pressing his cock roughly against Gerard’s stomach. They’re moving so fast, but it feels right, it feels _amazing_ , and _Frank’s_ the one setting the pace.

Gerard remembers the things Frank told him about Korse touching his hair, remembers how Korse’s spindly fingers tangled in it, so he slides his hand around the back of Frank’s neck instead, pulling him up for a fierce kiss. Frank moans into his mouth and claws at Gerard’s back, like he’s trying to get inside Gerard’s skin by osmosis. Gerard pushes him away for only as long as it takes to get his own jeans unzipped; Frank reaches in and takes his cock in hand, stroking it with a surprising confidence.

“I need you, I love, please, I want you—”

“Like this?” Gerard asks breathlessly. He rocks his hips with the motion of Frank’s hand.

“Fuck me, Gee, I need to feel you, I want you in me, come on,” Frank whispers.

Gerard pushes past his immediate doubts and focuses on the fact that Frank wants this, he’s _begging_ for it, and it’s not just a fantasy anymore. He spits into his hand and nudges Frank’s hand out of the way to slick himself up, then slides his wet fingers down between Frank’s legs to press into his hole.

Frank gasps once Gerard’s fingertip is inside; his expression is one of shock, but his body language urges Gerard on. He pushes a second finger into him but it’s so tight and Frank is so hot around him, and all Gerard can think of is that Korse must have felt this exact same thing. He scrambles back, away, suddenly frightened, and digs into their supplies for the lotion they use to keep their skin from completely drying out in the desert sun. When he comes back, Frank is gazing at him with a desperate, frantic heat in his eyes. He grabs Gerard and pulls him closer. Gerard pours some of the lotion onto his fingers and this time Frank moans when he pushes them into Frank’s ass. He finishes preparing Frank quickly and slicks his cock before positioning and pushing in.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Frank chants, clenching his teeth through the pain. “Jesus Christ, Gee, come on.”

Frank is so tight around him that it’s almost painful; Gerard has to stop and take a few seconds to compose himself. He stares dazedly down at Frank’s face, which is contorted with a strange mix of pain and desperation, and waits for Frank to speak again.

“I love you,” Gerard whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Please,” Frank replies. “Please fuck me.”

Frank tangles his hands in Gerard’s shirt again and tugs him in. Gerard holds himself up with one hand on the floor and slides the other between their bodies. Frank shies away from his touch when Gerard skims his fingers over his stomach, covered still by his shirt and the new bandage underneath, but he pushes his hips up and Gerard wraps his hand around his cock.

“Come on, come on,” Frank chants. “Touch me, fuck me, come on, Gee, I want you, please.”

Gerard doesn’t stop to consider, he just follows Frank’s instructions. He pulls out a little, gritting his teeth at the overwhelming friction of Frank around him, slowly thrusts back in. Frank throws his head back hard against the floor and clings to Gerard’s shoulders.

“Oh god, oh god, please, come on,” he says, so Gerard keeps moving. He strokes Frank’s cock in time with his thrusts, and it’s rough and tight and not slick enough but it’s so damn good he can’t bring himself to pull his hand away. Frank drags his hands up into Gerard’s hair and he yanks Gerard down flat.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasps, flailing for balance. Frank’s moving under him, rocking back onto his cock and arching up against his body, and Gerard’s a little worried about crushing him, reopening his wound, but Frank won’t let him move. Gerard presses into Frank as far and as hard as he can. “Jesus, Frankie, fuck. Don’t wanna—don’t wanna hurt you, Frankie, come on.”

“Love you, please, Gee, I want it, I want it, please, _god, come on_ —”

Gerard kisses him. He kisses Frank and doesn’t let either of them pull away for breath. He focuses his attention on Frank’s tongue in his mouth, Frank’s taste, Frank’s teeth nipping at his lips, the sounds he can feel rumbling up through Frank’s chest and throat, and lets his body move instinctually. Frank is still trying to talk, or maybe just moan, and Gerard swallows it all. He’s half afraid that Mikey and Ray will walk in on them, and half worried that Frank is pushing himself too fast, too hard, but he’s also one-hundred percent sure that he’s going to come in about five seconds, and he desperately wants to make sure Frank follows him.

Gerard strokes Frank’s dick like he would his own, fast and tight and frantic, and Frank breaks the kiss by jerking his head to the side and crying out loudly. “Fuck!” he shouts, yanking on a handful of Gerard’s hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Gee, _fuck_ —”

Frank comes hard, and Gerard closes his lips over Frank’s again to swallow all those noises. He pulls out far enough to smear Frank’s come around his own cock for extra lubrication and Frank yanks on his hair again as he pushes back in.

“Jesus Christ,” he says through gritted teeth, and Gerard echoes him. “Oh, _fuck_ , Gee.”

Gerard pushes himself up on his hands, breaking Frank’s hold on his hair, and carefully rearranges their limbs and gets his knees under him so he can sit up. He pulls Frank with him, onto his lap, and leaves his hands at Frank’s hips, and Frank wraps his legs around Gerard’s waist and locks his ankles behind him.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he says, low and fast, like a chant.

Gerard squeezes Frank’s hips and rocks into him carefully. He has more leverage now, and he can feel his self-control slipping away by the second, but he wants to make sure he’s not hurting Frank in this new position. “Frankie,” he whispers, and moves one hand to gently caress Frank’s stomach over his shirt.

“Don’t. Just—” Frank gasps. “Just fuck me.”

“You okay?”

“Stop fucking asking and fucking _fuck_ me, motherfucker,” Frank says through clenched teeth. He clenches his thighs around Gerard’s waist, pulling him in, and Gerard gives up.

He lets instinct take over and Frank relaxes once Gerard starts moving in earnest. Frank stretches his arms out to the side, fingernails dragging and clicking on the hard floor, and he throws his head back and moans, shamelessly loud in the silent room. Gerard feels an icy chill skitter down his back and he glances around, at the windows, afraid of being heard, but he can’t imagine shutting Frank up. He looks so beautiful, with his hair sprawled around him and sticking to the sweat on his skin, and so lost in pleasure that Gerard is almost tempted to close his eyes and let Frank keep this moment for himself.

He doesn’t, though. He can’t stand looking away from Frank’s face, his open, shiny lips and his tightly-shut eyes. Gerard licks his lips and drags Frank back against him, making him slide and shift on the floor, and Frank doesn’t resist. Gerard picks up his pace, and lets himself go, and comes hard inside Frank. He holds Frank against him until he finishes, then carefully lowers himself down onto his hands and knees and pulls out.

Frank lies boneless and sated underneath him, panting, and he stares up at Gerard’s face with a dazed, blank expression. Gerard leans down and kisses him, his lips sliding over Frank’s cheekbone and jaw, and finally his lips.

As much as Gerard wants to just collapse next to Frank and sleep, he knows Mikey and Ray will be back soon, and they can’t stay half-naked on the floor forever. He crawls off Frank and reaches for their clothes and shoes. Frank doesn’t move. He keeps staring straight up, not even watching Gerard rummage around.

“You wanna get dressed?” Gerard asks quietly. He means, _can you get dressed without help?_ but that’s a question that will only start a fight. He holds out Frank’s pants and pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll make up some beds, okay?”

Frank doesn’t take the pants, so Gerard drops them on the floor. He tries to ignore the fact that Frank hasn’t really looked him in the eye and busies himself with spreading out blankets for them to sleep on. By the time he’s finished, Frank still hasn’t moved. Gerard watches him worriedly.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?” Frank asks. He doesn’t turn to look at Gerard.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Gerard shifts his weight nervously. “Um. I’m gonna go outside for a smoke, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

He sticks his gun in his waistband and grabs his cigarettes out of his bag and practically runs out the door. He smokes two in a row and concentrates on not thinking about Frank, or about fucking Frank, or about _Korse_ fucking Frank, or about Frank obviously having regrets.

By the time Gerard goes back inside, Frank is dressed and sitting down on one of the blankets. He meets Gerard’s eyes and his lips twitch up in a secret little smile. Gerard sighs in relief and joins him on the blanket. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. He sits quietly and watches Frank wring his hands.

Mikey and Ray come back a little while later. Mikey offers to take the first watch; Ray says his goodnights and curls up on the other blanket. Gerard yawns and lies back. Frank stays sitting up, compulsively rubbing his knuckles in his lap.

“Frankie,” Gerard whispers. “You need to sleep.”

Frank nods. “Yeah, I will.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

“Go to sleep, Gee.”

Gerard tucks his fingers under Frank’s knee, unable to resist the urge to touch. Frank stares down at Gerard’s hand with a blank expression; Gerard feels like he’s done something wrong, crossed some invisible line. But Frank flashes a smile at him, a quick shine of white teeth in the darkness, and pushes his knee into Gerard’s cupped hand.

***

Frank is asleep when Ray shakes Gerard awake at sunrise. He’s lying on his back beside Gerard, but his legs are still crossed and his hands are still clasped, and Gerard suspects he fell asleep out of exhaustion and not because he tried to get some rest. Ray nods at Frank, asking whether or not to wake him up, and Gerard shakes his head. Ray sinks into a squat, crossing his arms over his knees, and meets Gerard’s eyes over Frank.

“Me and Mikey will go out on patrol. We took shifts during the night; we’re both up for it,” Ray tells him in a low whisper.

“No,” Gerard answers. “No, you can’t just—”

“You need to stay with Frank,” Ray interjects calmly. “We all know that.”

“No.”

Gerard gets his feet under him and pushes up off the floor, backing away from his and Frank’s shared blanket. Ray rises and follows him.

“You can’t divide us up like that. It doesn’t work that way,” Gerard mutters under his breath. Ray watches him, a strange, sorrowful expression on his face, but doesn’t argue. “I’ll go out with Mikey. You stay here with Frank. He’s…”

They both look over at Frank; he hasn’t stirred. His hands are twisted together, white-knuckle tight, even in sleep.

“You know how to handle him,” Gerard finishes. Ray nods and ducks his head, some of his wiry hair falling from its loose ponytail and brushing his cheeks. “We can’t divide up like that,” Gerard says again. “We’re a gang. We all work together. It doesn’t matter what we feel for each other, because we’re all brothers, right?”

“Right,” Ray answers quietly. “We can pretend that.”

“Don’t—”

Ray shakes his head and meets Gerard’s gaze, once again fixing him with that sad, almost apologetic look. “We know how you feel about him, and it’s okay that it changes things. But you’re right, we shouldn’t divide up the same way all the time.”

He clasps Gerard’s arm and squeezes tight, underscoring the bond between them, yet all Gerard can think about is that it isn’t the same as the bond he has with Frank. It isn’t even the same as what he shares with Mikey, who’s been at his side his entire life. Gerard feels like he needs to apologize, explain, but Ray simply smiles at him and moves away. Gerard spares another glance at Frank’s tense, uncomfortable form and escapes outside to find Mikey.

He lets Mikey drive, staring out the open passenger window with his gun resting in his lap and his hair whipping around his face. After an hour or so, Mikey pulls the car off the road and sets the brake.

“What happened to Frank?” he asks, still looking straight ahead with his hands on the wheel.

“It doesn’t—”

“It matters,” Mikey insists. “It’s something to do with Korse, and you know what’s going on, but I can’t figure out why you aren’t telling us.”

“It’s not my place,” Gerard tries. Mikey shakes his head.

“We’re supposed to be a family, Gee. All of us. We can’t keep secrets from each other. Why won’t you tell me?”

Gerard takes a long, deep breath, coughing on the exhale as he clears dust from his lungs. His hand clenches around the handle of his gun. “When Frank was captured, they took him to Korse,” he says quietly. “We told you that.”

“But what happened? Did Korse torture him?”

Gerard sees a flash of Korse’s fingers squeezing Frank’s throat, his lips smashed against Frank’s, his tongue invading Frank’s mouth, and he shudders. “Basically.”

“So, then—”

“Korse hurt him to get to me,” Gerard explains. He hears Mikey’s sharp inhale but ignores it. “Korse is manipulating me, and he’s using Frank like a—like a—”

“Puppet?”

Gerard crumples in his seat, hunching low over his knees and covering his face with both hands. He drags his fingers through his hair, forcing them through the tangles, and breathes harshly through his mouth. A wave of nausea works its way up from his gut; he can practically feel the bile rising in this throat.

“Gee?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s working,” Mikey murmurs. Gerard raises his head, the question on his lips, and Mikey stares at him, his eyes wide. “He’s getting to you.”

“He hurt Frank, of course he’s getting to me,” Gerard cries, suddenly outraged. He’s not weak because he let his feelings for Frank affect him. He’s not weak because he’s in love.

Mikey sighs, reaching for Gerard’s hand. “What happened to Frank?” he asks again, his voice gentle this time, careful. “He’s hurt us all before, Gee. We all have scars. What did he do this time that’s different? Why does it hurt you more than anything before?”

“Because—” Gerard’s voice catches in his throat. He swallows and turns his hand palm-up to hold onto Mikey. “Because when Frank came back, he told me that Korse had a message for me. But it wasn’t something he’d told Frank to say. It was Frank. He let Frank escape, tortured and terrified and hurt, because it was my fault and he wanted me to know that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Mikey says, his usually flat voice heavy with emotion.

“It was, though,” Gerard insists. “Korse told him so. He said everything he did was to hurt me. Frank didn’t matter. It was all for me.”

Mikey squeezes his hand again. “It really fucked Frank up, didn’t it?” he asks quietly. “Whatever Korse did to him?”

“Yeah.”

“Will he be okay?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard answers. He lets the truth of that statement wash over him, lets it take away the naïve hope that he and Frank might have a future together. All that’s left in Gerard’s heart is the ache of despair at having loved and lost.

“I fucked him last night,” Gerard whispers, near tears.

“You what?”

“After you and Ray left, we fought, and I fucked him. And I think he regrets it.”

“Gerard,” Mikey begins, warning Gerard off the subject with just a subtle change in his tone. He’s known for years about Gerard’s feelings for Frank; Gerard doesn’t need Mikey to tell him last night had been a mistake. Frank wasn’t ready. Gerard ruined it.

“He didn’t sleep,” Gerard tells him. “I woke up and Frank had just passed out sometime during the night. I don’t know. He just… He sat there, twisting his hands in his lap, and he didn’t sleep.”

“Gerard,” Mikey says slowly. “I’m gonna say something, but you aren’t gonna like it. But you need to hear it, okay?” He pauses; Gerard watches his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “You can’t let Frank make you crazy. I can see it happening, and I know it’s Korse’s fault, but you dwell on things, you over-think things, and it makes you crazy, and we’re on the run right now, Gerard, and you can’t let it affect you like this.”

Mikey lays his left hand on top of Gerard’s, holding him tight. His eyes are pleading and Gerard focuses very hard on taking in Mikey’s words and not blowing up at him.

“Do you understand?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes. “Yeah, I do.”

“When we finish our patrol, we’re gonna go back to the safehouse and you’re gonna help Frank recover, and you aren’t gonna let Korse get to you, okay?”

“Okay.”

Gerard’s hand slips from between Mikey’s. He folds them both around his gun and sits still while Mikey puts the car in gear.

Mikey stares out the windshield and maneuvers the car back onto the dusty road. “We’re gonna figure this out and Frank’s gonna get better,” he says, reverting back to his characteristic monotone. Gerard takes comfort in it, as Mikey meant him to, and flexes his hands around his gun.

They don’t meet any dracs on the rest of their patrol, but it’s still late in the afternoon by the time Mikey parks the trans-am outside the safe house. Frank comes out to greet them, and he does so by punching Gerard in the face as soon as he steps out of the car.

“Frank!” Mikey shouts. Ray comes running after him, hands outstretched to haul Frank back.

“What?” Gerard asks, shocked. His nose is throbbing but not bleeding, though he can taste blood from a cut on the inside of his lip. “What the hell?”

“You left,” Frank snarls.

“I what?”

“You ran away!” He lunges for Gerard again, stopped only by Ray’s arms clamping around his chest.

“Frank, Frank,” Gerard says quickly, realization dawning. “No, that’s not why, I just—you needed sleep. You didn’t sleep.” He catches Frank’s flailing fists in his palms, stilling them. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“What if you didn’t come back?”

“But I did.” He brings one of Frank’s hands up to his mouth and kisses Frank’s knuckles, right out in the open, in front of the others. Frank’s skin is dirty and familiar, and he doesn’t jerk away.

Ray lets Frank go, now that he’s calmed down, and he and Mikey back away, heading for the door. When they’re alone, with only the heat bearing down on them, Frank whispers, “I heard the car drive off and I thought—you left me before.”

“I was gonna come back for you,” Gerard murmurs, pulling Frank into an embrace. Frank’s arms are caught between their bodies, but he doesn’t fight Gerard’s hold. “I’ll always come back for you.”

“I’m sorry I hit you,” Frank tells him, his nose smushed against Gerard’s shoulder. “It was just… all day, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and how it felt, and I know you wouldn’t leave me, I _know_ that, but you _did_.” His arms relax between them and he curls the fingers of one hand in Gerard’s collar, stretching it down slightly. His whole body shakes when he sighs.

“I’m sorry too,” Gerard replies.

They’re both silent for a long moment, Frank slowly unwinding in Gerard’s arms, until the door opens and startles them. Gerard looks up and sees Ray come to a halt several feet away from them.

“Mikey said you didn’t run into any trouble,” he calls. “I figure we can stay here another day or two, if we’re lucky.”

“I like this place,” Frank whispers. His breath a series of puffs against Gerard’s bare collarbone.

“We’ll stay as long as we can,” Gerard says to Ray. He squeezes Frank’s hip to show he agrees.

***

At Frank’s insistence, Mikey and Ray take the car and go on patrol the next morning. Gerard directs them to expand their radius; if there’s really nothing around, and if they don’t run into any drac hunting parties, he might turn this safehouse into a temporary home base.

Frank explores the kitchens, poking into every cabinet and twisting every knob. The gas stoves no longer work, but he discovers a trap door leading to an underground pantry full of canned goods. Gerard sends him back down with a flashlight and a pad of paper and Frank excitedly starts making an inventory.

Gerard, meanwhile, takes note of the diner’s layout and furnishings; all that’s left in the main room is the row of benches built into the wall, and the laminate counter, also connected to the wall. None of the outlets seem to work, but Gerard still hasn’t found the fuse box, so it might be an easy fix.

Frank comes back into the room after a few minutes, boots thudding heavily on the floor, and hands over the list he’s made.

“There’s some okay stuff down there,” he tells Gerard. “And a fair amount of moldy bread, but I figure we don’t have to eat that.”

“Yeah, let’s avoid the mold,” Gerard replies, grinning. “I was just about to look around for the fuse box, see if something’s blown. It’d be nice to get some power in here.”

“I’ll check outside for the generator,” Frank offers. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks up on his toes, back on his heels, watching Gerard hopefully. Gerard stares at him for a moment, overwhelmed by emotion. He’s so unreasonably happy to see Frank smile.

“Gee?” Frank asks. Gerard snaps back to attention; Frank’s no longer shifting his weight, and there’s concern around the edges of his gaze.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he answers quickly.

Frank leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek, just a quick brush of his lips, and scampers outside before Gerard can respond. He shakes off the pleased flutters in his stomach and turns a critical eye to the establishment. The fuse box is probably out of the public eye, in the kitchen, maybe, or at least somewhere away from the dining area. He steps around the end of the counter and goes down on one knee to check underneath.

The front door crashes open, bouncing against the opposite wall. Gerard stays low on instinct, until Frank shouts his name. He pokes his head up and sees Frank digging through their bags for something.

“What are you doing?”

“Dracs. Heading here. Where’s my fucking—”

“You sure it’s not Ray and Mikey?” Gerard asks, his heart leaping into his throat.

“I’m fucking sure, Gee,” Frank snaps. “There’s a whole lot of dust on the horizon, and it’s coming this way. They know we’re here.”

“Your bazooka’s in the trans-am,” Gerard murmurs. Frank shoves the duffel bag away and pushes himself to his feet.

“We gotta—we gotta do something,” he says frantically, already twisting his hands together nervously. Gerard touches Frank’s wrist and leads him to the one window without graffitied boards covering it.

“We’ll be fine. We can protect ourselves.” Parting the blinds, he sees the plumes of dust immediately. He turns his hand palm-up and Frank laces their finger together. “There’s at least… three cars,” he says quietly. “We can count on at least three dracs in each—”

“Let’s say four.”

“Four dracs, three or four cars, so there’s at least—”

“Too many,” Frank finishes. “You got your gun?”

Gerard unlatches his thigh holster and takes it out, comforted by the heavy weight of it in his palm. He looks down at Frank’s thigh—he isn’t wearing his holster.

“Where’s your—”

“In the car,” Frank whispers. He hasn’t taken his eyes off the window. “With the rocket launcher and the extra ammo.”

Gerard remembers the last time he went swimming. He was eight, and Mikey was with him, and they were at the ocean with their parents. Gerard wanted to swim out and ride the waves, but Mikey was too small, and he’d get swept away. Gerard told him to stay put while he went out farther, and he did. And then Gerard turned around to wave at him, and Mikey screamed, and a wave crashed down over Gerard’s head, pushing him underwater and twisting him until he didn’t know which way was up.

He feels like he’s being shoved underwater, held there by the crushing weight of a wave of dread when he sees a familiar sports car driving in formation with the draculoid SUVs. He feels like he’s about to throw up, like gravity has suddenly shifted and he can’t get his balance.

“It’s not fair,” he hears distantly. Frank’s chanting under his breath. “It’s not fair. Not fair.”

“No,” Gerard agrees. He taps the butt of his gun against Frank’s wrist. “Take this.”

Frank gives him an incredulous look, finally ripping his eyes away from the impending attack. “It’s your gun.” He pushes it back toward Gerard. “I can’t.”

Gerard knows better than to argue. He adjusts his grip and looks wildly around the empty diner. “Okay. Okay, we need… Backup, we need backup, find the radio and put a call out to Mikey or Dr. D, or fucking anybody; we need backup.”

Frank whirls around, diving for their supplies, and Gerard turns his attention back to the window. The hunting party is heading straight for the diner. Korse wouldn’t be with them unless… “They knew we were here,” he calls to Frank. Frank doesn’t answer; Gerard hears him murmuring into the radio, sending out a distress call. There won’t be a reply, Gerard’s sure. Not before Korse kills them. He keeps that thought to himself.

He can hear the cars approaching, now. The distant rumbling growing louder with each passing second. Behind him, Frank falls silent. Gerard turns to look. Frank’s on his knees, his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

“Frankie…”

“We can’t stop him,” Frank groans.

“You’ll be fine. I won’t let him—”

“It’s not even me he wants…”

Gerard can’t argue that. To Korse, Frank is a means to an end. A means to _Gerard_. And now he’ll have Gerard.

“Do you think they got Mikey and Ray?”

“No,” Gerard answers, putting on a brave face he doesn’t feel. “I’m sure they’re ten miles out right now. Safe.”

“They’ll come back and find us dead.”

“Stop being morbid,” Gerard snaps. Under the growl of the engines, he can hear the crunch of dirt beneath tires. And then silence.

“They’re here,” Frank whispers.

Gerard glances at him and orders him to stay hidden behind the counter. He parts the blinds again, just a crack, and pokes his gun through. With any luck, he’ll be able to pick off a few of the dracs as they make their approach.

An army of dracs climb out of the SUVs and spread out. There are at least fifteen that Gerard can see, and some of them stand still, like guards. Finally, Korse gets out of his car. He stands tall and proud, with a satisfied smirk on his face and a white gun hanging loosely from his hand. The bright sunlight gleams on his smooth head. He and two dracs, both with BL/ind cloth masks rather than monster masks—his own personal guard, Gerard suspects—come up to the front door. Korse knocks loudly.

“You aren’t going to leave me in this sweltering heat, are you, Gerard?” he calls. He plucks at the ruffles on his sleeve.

Gerard doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. He doesn’t have a clear shot, with Korse so close to the building, but he keeps his gun at the ready. Korse knocks again, this time pounding on the door with the butt of his gun. It makes a hollow, thudding noise that rattles the blinds.

“Don’t,” Frank whispers. “Please.”

Korse murmurs something Gerard can’t hear, and then everything happens at once. The dracs open fire on the diner, blasting holes in the wooden panels covering the windows; Korse’s guards kick down the door and march inside, heavy rifles sweeping this way and that, cutting across the room with laser sights; Korse screams Gerard’s name and struts into the diner.

Gerard gets off a few shots, taking down three of the dracs outside and popping the tires of one of the SUVs, before one of Korse’s guards swings a rifle into the side of his head. Gerard crashes into the wall, groaning in pain, and crumples to the floor. He clutches his head; his hands come away sticky with blood.

Korse marches up to him and grabs a handful of his hair, yanking his head back at a severe angle. Gerard arches his back, trying to compensate, but the pain makes him dizzy and uncoordinated.

“Find him,” Korse mutters.

Gerard closes his eyes. The guards find Frank within seconds. Frank starts screaming, spitting curses and pleas and wordless noises of pain, and Gerard recognizes the sounds of him struggling against their hold. They bring Frank close—a stray kick lands Frank’s boot on Gerard’s thigh—and suddenly let Gerard go. He opens his eyes to Korse kneeling in front of Frank, holding Frank’s head in both hands. They’re staring at each other.

Gerard has both of the guards’ guns trained on him; he has no doubt that they’ll shoot him with no provocation, so he stays still.

“I wish I could kill you,” Korse murmurs to Frank. His fingertips press in hard against Frank’s scalp, but Frank doesn’t try to escape him. Korse leans in, licks Frank’s cheek, and kisses him there. The smack of his lips against Frank’s wet skin is loud; it rings in Gerard’s ears. Frank still doesn’t move.

“You’re too much fun to play with,” Korse continues, his lips brushing Frank’s cheek. He slides around and kisses Frank’s parted lips, ignoring Frank’s frantic, quick breaths. “You’re too much fun to hurt.”

“You don’t even want him,” Gerard blurts out. He tenses for a bullet that doesn’t come. Korse is looking at him when Gerard opens his eyes.

“You don’t know what I want,” Korse says smoothly.

“You want to mess with me, fucking mess with _me_ ,” Gerard bites back. “Leave him alone. You’ve done enough.”

“I’ll decide when he’s had enough.”

“ _No_ ,” Gerard snaps. “You did this to fuck with me. Well, consider yourself fucking successful.”

“Oh, I do,” Korse says pleasantly. “I’ve been quite successful in breaking you down, Gerard. I know that very well, and my superiors are pleased. But I do take more satisfaction in a job done… thoroughly.”

Korse’s hands slide up through Frank’s hair, pulling it into two bunches, one in each fist. He shakes Frank, lifts him up high on his knees, and yanks his head back, looming over him with a menacing expression.

“Please, please, don’t, please, let me go, please,” Frank pants, his eyes clenched shut. He doesn’t even seem to be aware of his own words; he keeps begging even after Korse drops him to the floor. He falls to his knees, then with a gentle push, all the way to his back. His arms sprawl out to either side.

“I think I’ll take him with me,” Korse mutters as he rises smoothly to his feet. He nudges Frank’s thigh with the toe of his boot. “He’s far more entertaining than you’ve ever been,” he adds. He glances at Gerard as if Gerard should be disappointed in himself, as if Gerard had failed him.

“You don’t need him,” Gerard whispers. “You’ve got me, now.”

Korse’s face stretches into a frightening grin, exposing his sharp teeth. “And you’re the best, aren’t you, Gerard?”

Gerard’s stomach sinks and he’s once more overcome with dread. He’s said something wrong, he’s made their situation worse, but before he has time to backtrack, the sound of laser guns splits the air. The roar of an engine quickly follows; Gerard can recognize his trans-am anywhere. Fire lights his eyes again; he sees Korse’s grow cold.

Korse kicks Frank in the side, making him moan and turn over, hiding his face against Gerard’s knee. Gerard resists reaching down to touch him.

The battle outside quickly picks up speed. The trans-am skids to a halt and gunshots fly back and forth, and Gerard has no idea what’s going on out there. He and Frank were wildly outnumbered, and even with the element of surprise, ten or more dracs is a lot for two people to handle. Gerard sucks in a breath, psyching himself up, and launches himself at Korse. They tumble to the ground, Korse on his back and Gerard pinning his shoulders, and grapple together, laying kicks and punches wherever they can reach.

Gerard hears a blast of laser fire behind him and his heart stops. A body falls to the ground. But before he can turn to look, there are two more shots and Frank cries out. He’s still alive.

Momentarily distracted, Gerard doesn’t see the hit coming. Korse knocks him in the side of the head, covering his lace sleeve with Gerard’s blood, and it dazes him. Gerard falls to his side, panting for breath, and Korse calmly gets to his feet, brushing dust off his clothes.

“Take him,” he orders. He walks out of the diner without another word. Gerard expects one of the guards to grab him, but it’s Frank that the guard drags outside. He’s on his knees, but the guard has a hand fisted tight in his hair and it’s clear Frank isn’t at all trying to keep up.

Gerard rolls over, lurches to his feet, and swipes his discarded gun off the floor. Frank needs him. It doesn’t matter than he can barely see straight; Frank _needs_ him.

He staggers outside. Most of the dracs are dead. His gun feels too heavy in his hand. Korse’s guard is trying to push Frank into the back of the sports car. Gerard wipes a smear of blood out of his eye and hurries after them.

The guard goes down from a shot to the head. The two dracs still standing each retreat to their SUVs. Korse guns his engine and speeds away, not bothering to pull Frank into the car or even to shut the door. The two SUVs follow Korse’s lead and kick up a thick plume of dust.

Frank is on the ground. Bleeding. Not moving. Gerard runs forward and drops to his knees. “Frankie?”

Ray appears beside him and gently turns Frank onto his back. Frank coughs.

Mikey covers the gash in Gerard’s head with his bare hand. “Christ, Gerard, are you okay?” he asks shrilly. Gerard ignores him.

Frank opens his eyes.

“Frankie!” Gerard cries. “Oh, god, thank god, Frank, oh my god, I thought…”

“Okay, stop,” Mikey shouts. “Stop moving. You’re fucking bleeding. _Stop_!”

“Ow,” Gerard groans.

Ray quiets them all with a gentle but commanding tone. “Stop trying to help. Let Mikey wrap your head,” he tells Gerard. “Frankie, are you hurt? Can you move?”

Mikey lays a piece of cloth over the wound and wraps it tightly around Gerard’s skull. “We got your call on the radio,” he murmurs. “Ray saw the dust. I thought you were dead, Gee. We saw the dracs and we thought we were too late.”

Gerard feels as though his heart is about to burst through his chest. He slings an arm around his brother and hauls him in, hugging him tightly even as Mikey bitches about messing up his bandaging. When Mikey finally finishes cleaning him up, Gerard is feeling about fifty times better than he had been. His head is still pounding, but he no longer feels dizzy or like he’s about to pass out. Mikey helps him to his feet and they go into the destroyed diner.

He finds Frank on the ground, leaning against a wall just inside the door, his arms around his knees. Ray is poking around the debris, gathering their supplies and anything useful he finds. Mikey gives Gerard a pointed look and goes to help, leaving Gerard with a gentle push in Frank’s direction. Gerard stands over Frank and offers his hand.

“What happened?” Frank asks him, ignoring the gesture. “How did he know?”

“I don’t know,” Gerard tells him quietly, “but we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

“I can’t do this again,” Frank whispers. He doesn’t look scared or even resigned; he’s just stating a fact. Gerard admires him, suddenly, for how brave he’s been. How much he’s survived through sheer force of will.

“You shouldn’t have to,” Gerard replies. “You won’t have to.” He offers his hand again, and this time Frank takes it.

***

Another all-day drive lands them at another safehouse. This one is on the outskirts of a town, an old visitor’s center with a rack of outdated maps and brochures for activities people no longer do. Frank picks one up— _Looking For Adventure? Try White Water Rafting!_ it says in a cheerful font on yellowed paper.

“Do you remember the beach?” Frank asks without turning around.

“Yeah,” Mikey answers. Ray shakes his head.

“Our parents took us a few times,” Gerard adds. “They wanted us to see the water.”

“My brother said he took me,” Ray says. “But I don’t remember it. I was too young.”

Frank doesn’t offer a story of his own. He puts the brochure back. “I don’t think we can stay here very long.”

Mikey nods in agreement, and Ray does too, but then Ray meets Gerard’s eyes and Gerard can see something click in Ray’s mind. He stands up a little straighter and tilts his head so his hair falls away from his face. “What is it?” Gerard asks apprehensively.

“They find us,” Ray says, his voice slow and careful. He’s still putting words to his thoughts, but Gerard doesn’t have the patience to wait for him to be articulate. “Korse always finds us.”

“Yeah, I know,” Gerard snaps.

“We’re bugged,” Ray tells them. He sounds so certain. There’s an abrupt silence as they all take it in, and then it seems obvious.

“How?” Gerard asks. Ray stares back at him, his face falling.

“We can take apart all our gear,” Mikey says quietly. “Piece by piece until we find the tracker. The car, too.”

“It’s me,” Frank breaks in. “It has to be me.”

“What?”

Frank looks up and meets Gerard’s gaze. Gerard can see him slipping into the panicked, hysterical place where Frank can’t control himself and he steps forward, intent on calming Frank down before he starts screaming or crying.

“They took me,” Frank says. “I was unconscious. I don’t know—”

“There’s nothing,” Gerard insists. He takes Frank’s hands and squeezes them tightly. “I’ve seen you, Frank. There’s nothing.”

“Think about it,” Frank shouts, yanking out of Gerard’s hold. “Those dracs didn’t go after the car, Gee. They came to _us_. He came to _me_.”

Frank is ripping off his shirt and vest before Gerard can stop him. His shoes follow, then his jeans, and finally his underwear. And then, standing naked before them, Frank starts scratching at the edges of the bandage on his stomach.

“They put it inside me,” he whispers frantically. “I know it, I know he did something, he put it in me, Gerard, I have to—”

“Frank! Frankie, stop!” Gerard yells, grabbing at Frank’s hands. “Don’t do this, don’t hurt yourself over this, there’s nothing there!”

Frank struggles against his grasp and it’s obvious he’s not holding himself back at all. Frank scratches Gerard’s arms, his face, his throat, kicks at his knees, twists and turns and finally wrenches away, blood on his fingertips.

“You don’t know that!” he screams. “You don’t know! You don’t know what happened!”

He finally succeeds in ripping the bandage off. He sinks to his knees and clutches at his stomach, where an angry, red scar stretches across his abdomen just beneath his navel. It hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s no longer bleeding and the stitches hold firm. The skin surrounding the wound is deeply bruised.

Horror sweeps through Gerard’s body when he realizes what Frank’s about to do.

“No,” he shouts. “ _No_ , Frank. Stop this.” He gets to his knees and forces Frank’s hands away from the wound. “There’s nothing there. Stop. _Stop_ , Frankie, you’re hurting yourself.”

Frank stills, panting from exertion but no longer fighting him. The paranoia lingers behind his eyes; he looks up at Gerard and whispers, “You don’t know.”

Without breaking Frank’s gaze, Gerard calls to Ray. “Can you get a new bandage, please?”

“I’ll… start… checking the car,” Mikey adds, following Ray out.

“You have to check,” Frank says urgently. “You have to make sure. Gerard, please. Just look.”

“I’m not fucking cutting you open—”

“I’m already cut open!”

“You’re _healing_ ,” Gerard snaps. “They probably just stuck a bug under the car or something, Frankie. Don’t be like this.”

Ray comes back in and quiet sits down beside them, laying the gauze and tape in his lap. Frank lets out a shuddery breath and lies back, still with his feet tucked beneath him. His back is bowed over his heels, his shoulders pressing into the dusty floor, and he extends his arms to either side, palms facing up. It reminds Gerard vividly of that first day Frank came back, when he had unconsciously mimicked being held down by Korse.

“You should just leave me here,” he breathes. “He’s tracking me because he knows you won’t leave me. You have to leave me.”

“No,” Gerard replies fiercely. He lays his hand on Frank’s taut stomach, feeling the rough bump of the stitches beneath his fingers. “There’s nothing inside you, Frank. Trust me.”

Frank stares at the ceiling and says again, “You don’t know.”

Gerard pushes himself to his feet, angry with Frank, angry with _Korse_ , and mutters to Ray to apply the bandage. He doesn’t wait around to watch him finish.

Mikey is outside, on his back underneath the car. Gerard squats down and peeks under.

“I didn’t think you were actually going to check,” he says.

“What happened to Frank?” Mikey asks.

Gerard lies down on his back. The sun is setting, but there’s still enough daylight to see the faint wisps of clouds overhead and feel the warmth on his face. He sighs, unsure of how to respond. Mikey doesn’t pressure him for an answer; he continues clattering around in the undercarriage.

“He wants us to leave him,” Gerard finally replies. “He wants to die.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“You didn’t see him in there.”

“Are you ever gonna tell us what happened to him to fuck him up so bad?” Mikey scoots out from under the car and rests his head near Gerard’s. They’re both quiet for a long moment. “Korse did something to him, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he— _fuck_. Did he…” Mikey takes a breath, shuddering. Gerard bites his lip and waits for the question he knows is coming. “It was bad, wasn’t it?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah.”

“Jesus,” Mikey breathes. “Tell me I’m wrong, Gee. Tell me Korse didn’t fuck him.”

Gerard shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Mikey sits up, horror etched into his features. “Fuck, are you serious?”

“Jesus, Mikey. Would I make that shit up?”

“He’s gonna be okay, though, right? He’s okay.”

“Physically. But mentally… I don’t know anymore.”

Mikey’s falls silent. Gerard closes his eyes. The wind whistles past; a chill is already starting to hit the air and the sun hasn’t even fully set, but Gerard welcomes the relief from the overwhelming heat of the day.

“You said,” Mikey begins, his voice careful and measured. “You said you fucked him.”

“Yeah.”

“You said he couldn’t sleep after.”

“Yeah.”

“Gerard…”

“I don’t know what I’m doing with him,” Gerard admits.

“Do you still love him?” Mikey asks.

“Of course. Of course I do. I would die for him. I just hate…”

“Hate what?”

“I hate Korse for what he did. I mean, I hated him before, but now… It’s different, somehow. I don’t get it. It’s just… more. I want him to hurt for making Frank like this. I want to fucking torture him.”

Mikey bends over him and kisses his forehead. “Don’t let it make you crazy,” he warns. “You can outsmart him if you try, but you have to try.” He stands up, his shadow falling across Gerard’s face. “I didn’t find anything under the car, and I don’t really want to take it apart piece by piece while we’re still on the run.”

“Thanks for checking. And Mikey… don’t tell him you know.”

Gerard doesn’t move until the chill of night draws shivers from his body. He pulls his jacket tighter over his chest. The sky has darkened to a deep blue, lighter towards the west, and there’s no sound anywhere except for the soft murmur of the others moving around inside.

He hears footsteps. Someone sits down beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Frank murmurs. “I don’t want to die. I just wanted to protect you.”

“Leaving you wouldn’t protect me,” Gerard tells him. “I don’t care if you are blasting a fucking tracking signal. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

“Because you’re stupid.”

Gerard sits up, faces Frank. Frank is wrapped in Ray’s leather jacket; his legs are crossed and his hands are resting in his lap. Gerard touches his knee. “Do you honestly believe they put something inside you?”

Frank shrugs. The oversized jacket bunches up under his ears. “It’s the only explanation, right?”

“If there’s a bug, we’ll find it,” Gerard says. “I don’t think it’s in you.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

Gerard takes his hand and drags them both to their feet. “We’ll figure this out, Frankie.”

Inside, Ray is dozing on one of their blankets, stretched out on the floor. Mikey sits by the window, gun in his lap.

“I’m taking first watch,” he says quietly as they pass. “Get some rest.”

Gerard pulls Frank onto the other blanket with him and wraps his arms around Frank’s shoulders. Frank doesn’t flinch or jerk away, but it takes him several minutes to return Gerard’s embrace, and even longer to settle in for sleep. Gerard lets himself relax only when he feels the tension leave Frank’s body.

“He’ll come tomorrow,” Frank whispers.

***

Gerard takes his watch after Mikey, giving Ray some more time to rest. He’s really been carrying their gang since Frank was taken, and Gerard makes a mental note to thank him for stepping up. When Mikey shakes him awake, Gerard nods and kisses Frank’s forehead. He’s sleeping, finally, but his mouth is twisted into a frown. Mikey takes Gerard’s place on the blanket and strokes Frank’s clenched fists, trying to soothe him.

“Anything?” Gerard whispers.

“Quiet as a grave,” Mikey replies. “Wake me again if you get tired. I’m okay for another watch.”

Gerard shakes his head, determined to last the night. “You need the rest as much as Ray.”

Mikey rolls his eyes and gives Gerard a grateful smile before snuggling closer to Frank and settling in to sleep. Gerard takes his gun and goes outside.

The stars are bright, out in the middle of nowhere with no electricity. He takes a deep breath; the air is cold enough to sting his throat, but it’s so refreshing after the heat of day and he embraces it as he takes a long, slow walk around the building. Far, far off in the distance, there’s the faint glow of the city against the horizon.

“Motherfuckers,” he mutters.

They’ve been circling Battery City for so long, but it’s been almost a year since Gerard’s set foot within the city limits. He’s pretty sure Mikey and Ray didn’t even go beyond the outskirts when they had to find fuel. But lately they’ve been circling closer and closer, spiraling in as the dracs chase them, like Korse is a dog herding sheep. It’s almost inevitable now that they’ll end up exactly where they started, on BL/ind’s front step.

Gerard keeps moving, keeps watching the horizon, but there’s no discernable movement and he can’t hear anything but silence. He only starts to feel drowsy when the sun begins to rise.

He hears footsteps behind him and whirls around.

“Oh good, you’re not dead,” Mikey says quietly, smiling. “You didn’t wake me up.”

“I wasn’t tired,” Gerard replies. “I’m fine.”

“You must be tired. We’re all exhausted, you don’t have to pretend.”

“I’m not pretending,” Gerard insists. He thinks, privately, that he’s been falling down on the job. He should be tired, he should be taking control and getting his gang to safety. He should be protecting Frank. This whole mess is his fault, anyway.

Mikey touches his arm, jolting him out of his spiral of self-pity.

“Thanks,” he says. “The others still sleeping?”

“Ray’s up,” Mikey tells him. “Frank was asleep when I came out here, but…”

“But what?”

“He was having nightmares all night. He kept… I don’t know, saying stuff. Mumbling.”

Gerard sighs and rubs his forehead. “I should…”

“Yeah. Do you want me to get the car ready?”

Gerard shakes his head. “If Frank’s right, if we’re bugged or whatever, then we should just stay here, prepare ourselves. Get all the guns charged, scope out any places to hide, whatever will give us the advantage. I’ll go check on him.”

Frank isn’t sleeping when Gerard cracks open the door. He has his head in Ray’s lap and he’s shaking, panting harshly, and Ray’s combing his fingers through Frank’s hair. Frank allows it for a moment, then shakes his head. Ray cups his hand around the back of Frank’s neck instead.

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Ray murmurs. Gerard ducks back behind the door to stay out of sight. “You know we’d never leave you on purpose.”

“You should, though,” Frank says. “He’s gonna find us and it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Ray soothes. “Even if you are bugged or what the fuck ever, it’s not your fault. Korse is a fucking bastard for what he did to you. It’s _his_ fault.”

They fall silent and Gerard waits. He’s just about to go inside and make his presence known when he hears Frank ask, “Did you know about Gerard?”

“I suspected.”

“You know, we slept together the other night.”

Ray doesn’t answer. Gerard holds his breath.

“I asked him to.”

“Are you… I mean, was it okay? I mean. Fuck, Frankie, was that a good idea?”

“I didn’t think of Korse. I just thought of Gerard. But I think _he_ thought of Korse,” Frank says miserably. “I don’t know if he can get past it.”

“I think he feels guilty,” Ray says, and Gerard rolls his eyes. _Obviously_.

“I just wish I’d known, y’know? Sooner, I mean. Like, before Korse. I didn’t want the first time to be like that.”

“I’m sure it’ll just take time,” Ray murmurs. “For both of you.”

Gerard rubs at his forehead again, feeling the ghost of a headache brought on by guilt and fuck knows how many stressful emotions rolling around in his brain. Neither Frank nor Ray say anything for several minutes, so Gerard figures it’s safe to go inside. He slips in quietly. Frank is asleep again, and Ray’s hand rests on his shoulder.

Ray looks up, his dark eyes filled with sympathy.

“I’m glad he talked to you,” Gerard whispers.

“We gotta find Korse,” Ray answers, his voice low and even quieter than Gerard’s. “We gotta kill him.”

“We will,” Gerard promises.

Mikey comes inside in a burst of noise and excitement. “I had the radio on and—”

“What?”

Frank stirs and blinks awake. He shifts out of Ray’s lap and sits up. “What’s going on?”

“Dr. D was on the radio,” Mikey tells him. “Korse isn’t coming for us today or tomorrow or anytime this week. We can get the fuck out of here while he’s distracted. He’s not chasing us.”

“Wait,” Ray says slowly, pushing himself to his feet. “How does he know?”

“The transmission started with a warning to the underground in the city,” Mikey says breathlessly. Gerard can see the excitement growing in his eyes. “BL/ind pulled Korse back into Battery City to ‘take care of the pests’ and they’ll keep him occupied for days. You guys, this is our chance. We can make a run for it.”

“No,” Frank says. They all look down at him. He meets each of their eyes in turn, then focuses on Gerard. “We can’t run, Gee,” he says. “We’re being tracked. I can feel it. If we run, he’ll find us.”

“So what do you suggest?” Ray asks coolly.

“Attack.”

“What?” Mikey asks.

“In the city?” Frank nods and Gerard knows instantly what he’s thinking. “Join up with the underground movement.”

“This is our chance to get revenge,” Frank says vehemently. He struggles to his feet, clutching his side as he twists through painful positions, and gets right up in Gerard’s face. “Please,” he whispers. “We can do this.”

“We’ll be outnumbered,” Mikey says. “We’ll be at a disadvantage, on their home turf.”

“The underground will help us.”

“Frankie, we don’t _know_ them,” Ray adds.

“But we’re on the same side. We all want to bring them down. Please, Gee, let me have this. I can do it. We can end this. Forever.”

Without taking his eyes away from Frank, Gerard gestures to Mikey. “Get back on the radio. Get a message to Dr. D, see if we can get any more information. We’ll need everything we can get our hands on.”

“You’re seriously considering this?” Ray asks incredulously. “Gerard, it’s suicide.”

“We can do it,” Frank whispers earnestly.

Mikey makes a disbelieving noise. “Jesus, Frank, we want to kill him as much as you do, but this—”

“No, you don’t,” Frank cries. He whirls around to face the others. “You don’t understand. I hope you never understand, because it fucking _hurts_ , but it’s different, alright? It’s different.” Gerard lays a hand on Frank’s shoulder but Frank shrugs him off. “We have a chance to finally fucking _end_ this and stop running around in circles. We’re never gonna get this chance again.”

“Even if he is tracking us, we can get a head start,” Mikey says in a low, urgent voice. “We can get to safety.”

“Frank’s right, though,” Ray says. “It wouldn’t last.”

Frank turns back to Gerard, his eyes blazing fiercely. “I will do this with or without you. If I have to walk to Battery City myself, I will.”

“Frank—”

“I’m gonna kill him,” he says. “But I want you there with me when I do.”

“We got your back, Frankie,” Ray says after a moment. Mikey waits for Gerard’s nod before throwing in his support as well.

“I’ll go make the transmission.”

Five hours later, they have maps, supplies, and a plan.

“The fabulous Killjoys are at it again,” Dr. Death Defying says through the crackly radio. “Best of luck to you boys. May your aim be true and your guns be charged.”

Frank stares at the radio with a determined glare. After the transmission cuts off, Frank springs to his feet.

“Where’s a fucking knife?” he asks.

“What?”

“A knife, I need a knife.”

Gerard immediately remembers Frank tearing at his bandage and his blood runs cold. “Why?” he asks, forcing his voice to stay casual.

“I just need it, alright? Scissors or—or that electric razor. Where is it?”

“In the car,” Ray answers.

Frank goes outside.

“What is he doing?” Mikey asks under his breath. Ray shrugs, bewildered.

Gerard hurries outside as well. He finds Frank hunched over beside the car, a razor-sharp knife in one hand and a fistful of his own hair in the other. He pulls it away from his head, holding it taut, and raises the blade.

“Frank!” Gerard shouts in alarm. “What are you doing?”

“What the fuck does it look like?”

“No, don’t—”

Frank jabs the knife in Gerard’s direction. “Don’t you fucking dare. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Frankie, why—” Frank glares at him. “Okay,” Gerard allows. “Stupid question. I’m sorry.”

Frank raises the knife again and begins to saw at his hair. Clumps of it slip from his fingers and float to the ground. Gerard’s throat feels thick and raw, like he’s about to cry, which is ridiculous. Frank’s hair isn’t something Gerard needs to mourn. He tries to swallow around the lump in his throat and speak normally.

“Can I do it?”

Frank pauses. After a moment he hands over the knife, handle first.

“What do you want? Just… shorter?”

“Gone,” Frank replies. “All of it.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

Gerard takes the knife and starts hacking at Frank’s hair, cutting off as much as he can in big clumps. He’s sad to see it go; Frank’s hair has always been beautiful, flying around his face when they’re driving with the windows down, tangled and standing on end when Frank first wakes up in the morning. Curling around his ears when Frank’s bent over, working. Falling into his eyes when he eats.

Clenched in Korse’s fist as he yanked Frank’s head around.

Gerard keeps cutting until Frank’s hair is only a few inches long all over, messy and uneven. He runs his fingers through it carefully.

“All of it,” Frank says again. He pulls the battery powered razor from the trunk of the car and holds it up.

Gerard leans around Frank to take it and kisses Frank’s cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

“This will be better,” Frank assures him quietly. “Less trouble.”

“I know.”

The razor buzzes to life in Gerard’s hand. He winces as he shaves away the last bits of Frank’s hair, leaving him with just a thin layer of prickly stubble on his scalp. Gerard tosses the razor back into the car and rubs his palm over the crown of Frank’s head, where the fuzz is the softest.

After a moment, Frank turns around. “Is this okay?” he asks.

Gerard nods, ignoring the threat of tears. _It will grow back_ , he thinks. Besides, Frank looks good like this too. It reminds him of how Frank looked when they first met, back when Frank was only seventeen. So much has changed since then.

Frank puts on his dark, mirrored sunglasses. “Do I look cool?”

“You always look cool,” Gerard replies. He takes the sunglasses off and hooks them into Frank’s collar, then slides both hands up Frank’s neck and into where Frank’s hair used to be so long and soft between his fingers. Now there’s only the bite of it beneath his skin. Frank doesn’t protest.

“We’re gonna end this,” he whispers. He tilts his head back, pushing into Gerard’s grasp. “Everything’s gonna be better.”

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees. “I love you.”

Frank breaks into a smile.

***

They have no way of communicating with the underground rebellion in Battery City, but according to Dr. Death Defying’s sources, their plan is to lead the dracs out into the city, leaving BL/ind’s headquarters relatively unprotected for the Killjoys to sneak in and take control.

As Gerard drives them towards the main road into town, he takes stock of the others’ expressions. Ray is looking down at the gun in his lap, thumb idly stroking the muzzle. Mikey stares back at him in the rearview mirror, and Gerard knows with that one glance exactly how much of a bad idea Mikey thinks this is. Frank just seems determined, not scared at all.

“You guys ready?” Gerard asks.

Mikey’s the only one to answer. “Fuckin’ ready.”

They’ve been driving all day and only now, close to midnight, do they start passing the abandoned buildings that mark the outskirts of the city. Gerard turns the headlights on. Even with their old, beat-up trans-am, they’ll blend in better this way.

“Take a left,” Ray says quietly. Gerard doesn’t need the instruction; he knows the route to BLI like the back of his hand.

“Keep your eyes peeled for dracs,” Mikey tells them. “If the underground is drawing them away from headquarters, they might be anywhere.”

Miraculously, they don’t find any but a few dead bodies dressed in white on the far side of BL/ind’s parking lot.

“Well, it looks like someone’s been busy,” Ray mutters.

“Let’s hope they keep it up.”

“They’ve got our backs,” Mikey assures them.

Gerard looks for Frank in the rearview and finds him staring out the window with the same stoic, determined expression. He’s a little worried; Frank’s usually a chatterbox before a big fight. But this is different, and Gerard can’t be looking for excuses to abort. Not now that they’re so close. He parks the car right at the front entrance.

They don’t hesitate. The big, glass façade is intimidating, especially after all their time spent in the desert, but they charge forward as a group and walk into the lobby with confidence Gerard doesn’t quite feel.

“Where do we go?” Mikey whispers.

The lobby is empty, even the security desk. About half of the bank of CCTV screens show only static. Frank draws his gun and marches ahead of them, picking a hallway at random. Gerard follows without question. By the time they reach their third abandoned security checkpoint, Ray starts getting twitchy. He touches Gerard’s arm.

“Where the hell are we going?” he asks in a low voice. “This feels like a trap, Gee.”

Gerard swallows nervously. Ray’s right, it does feel like a trap, but this is their mission. They have to keep going.

“Hey,” Mikey calls suddenly. He’s fallen behind, and they all rush back to his side. Mikey points through a glass wall at a room with another bank of video screens. “We can figure out where everyone is on there.”

The door separating them from the video room is locked, but Ray elbows through the glass without a word. No alarms go off. The door opens easily from the other side. They file in and start scanning the video feeds.

Gerard takes his time searching each screen for movement. After a few seconds, Mikey reaches up and touches one of the screens on the top row.

“They’re dead,” he says softly.

“All of them?”

“No,” Ray answers. His voice is cold and sharp. He points to another screen, down at the bottom of the grid. A handful of men in white uniforms are streaming into the building through the underground entrance.

“There,” Frank adds, pointing to yet another feed. Korse is there with four of his personal guards, speaking into a radio.

Mikey presses his arm against Gerard’s. “Split up?” he asks, low enough for only Gerard to hear.

Gerard doesn’t want to split up. He really doesn’t want to. He grabs Mikey’s hand and shakes his head.

“Gee, we gotta split up. You and Frank go after Korse. He’s gotta be in the center of the building somewhere. We’ll take care of the dracs and meet you there,” Ray says.

“We need to stay together,” Gerard protests weakly.

Ray turns to face him, confused. “What? They’re bottlenecked at the door, we can cut them off if we hurry, and that’ll keep you and Frankie from being ambushed. Come on, Gerard.”

“But—”

“Gee, we have to,” Mikey adds. He squeezes Gerard’s hand then abruptly lets go.

“Come on, Mikey,” Ray says. They head out the door, back the way they came.

Frank waits beside Gerard, holding himself awkwardly, his shoulders tense. Gerard wants to touch him, reassure him, but he can’t bring himself to move.

“What’s wrong with you?” Frank asks without looking at him.

“What?”

“You’re not acting right. You’re not making decisions,” he says tightly. “We need you to be in charge.”

“I’m sorry, I just… I don’t want to lose you guys. We should’ve stayed together.”

“No, Gee, we shouldn’t,” Frank shouts, whirling to face him. “Ray’s right, they can stop the dracs and give us a clear shot at Korse. We have to take it. Now is our _only_ chance. We aren’t far from him now. We have to _go_.”

Gerard tracks Mikey and Ray’s progress on the video screens. They’re almost down to the basement level, where the dracs have fanned out and taken cover. Frank points at Korse.

“He’s right there. He’s practically _waiting_ for me!”

The black and white feed wavers as Gerard watches it. Korse looks up into the camera and stares, like he can actually see them through the feed. Like he knows they’re watching.

“Gerard!”

He feels his expression harden. “Let’s go.”

Frank dashes out in front of him and they set a quick pace through the labyrinth of glass-walled hallways and conference rooms. Gerard sees the guard before Frank does; he grabs a handful of Frank’s vest and hauls him backwards, around a corner and out of sight.

“What did you see?” Frank whispers urgently.

“A guard. Just one. I think the others are all inside. Straight down this hall and to the left.”

“Can we get a clear shot from here?”

“No,” Gerard sighs. “We just have to be ready.”

“I’m ready,” Frank tells him. Gerard meets his eyes and kisses him, soft and gentle. Frank’s eyes gleam with renewed confidence when they break apart.

“Let’s do this.”

They both draw their guns and storm down the hallway. The guard goes down fast under their constant stream of laser fire, and as Gerard predicted, two more guards come through the door. They kill both and leave their bodies piled at the threshold.

With their backs against the wall on either side of the open door, Gerard meets Frank’s eyes again. Frank nods.

Gerard lets him go in first. The room is another one full of video feeds, but half of these screens are showing things that don’t even look like the city, much less BL/ind headquarters. Korse stands at one end with a guard beside him and one in front of him. They all have their guns aimed and ready.

Frank fires a shot without hesitating and the front guard falls. Korse’s lip curls.

“Good evening,” he says coolly. “Welcome to my office. I did hope you’d come visit me. You must have a death wish.”

“I didn’t walk into a fucking trap,” Frank growls.

“Oh, but I believe you did,” Korse replies. He gestures to the screens with a wave of his free hand. “You see, your boys are no match for my army.”

Frank doesn’t look away from Korse, so Gerard inspects the video feeds. Sure enough, he finds one with a view of the basement, and he can see the flash of each round of laser fire.

“I don’t really fucking care,” Frank says. “I came for you, and oh look, here we are.”

“You’ve got two guns at your head, Korse,” Gerard adds. “It’s over.”

The remaining guard makes a move. Gerard shoots him without a second thought. Korse’s expression turns stony when the body hits the ground.

“It’s _over_ ,” Frank echoes as he advances on Korse. It doesn’t matter that he’s smaller when he pushes the gun right up against Korse’s shiny forehead.

“You can’t pull that trigger, Frankie,” Korse murmurs. “Not when I’ve got my gun on him.”

Gerard’s focus narrows but he doesn’t feel the same cold thrill that he usually experiences when a gun is aimed at him. Frank shifts his grip on his gun and Gerard wills him not to lose his nerve.

“I told you,” Frank says, “I don’t fuckin’ care. Shoot him. Shoot me. As long as I get a shot at you, I’m pretty fuckin’ happy.”

“You are like a puppet, aren’t you?” Korse taunts. “You can’t even care about your friends. You just do what they tell you.”

“I don’t—”

“Frankie, don’t listen,” Gerard calls loudly. “Just hear me, okay? Just focus on me.”

“I used you, and now you think you have a mind of your own? No, Frankie, no. You’re as predictable as Gerard, and that’s saying a lot. He’s ruled by his emotions, just like you. It makes you weak.”

“I’m not—”

“Frank, _don’t listen_.”

“You didn’t even matter, in the grand scheme of things,” Korse says with a weirdly sympathetic smile. “I’m going to kill Gerard, just like I always planned. You were just a means to an end. Fun to play with, of course, I’m not denying that. I particularly enjoyed the way you screamed when I—”

Frank and Gerard both move at once. Frank smacks the side of Korse’s head with the butt of his gun while Gerard lunges for Korse’s hands. He twists Korse’s arm until his hand spasms and his grip on the gun loosens enough for Gerard to snatch it from him. Frank kicks Korse’s leg and sends him down to one knee.

“No,” Frank snaps. “You can’t play with people like you played with Gerard, and you can’t hurt people like you hurt me. You don’t deserve to live.”

“You’re pathetic,” Korse snarls. “It wasn’t even difficult to make you scream and cry. You didn’t even give me a challenge.”

“I’m not pathetic,” Frank mutters. Gerard backs off, but keeps both his and Korse’s guns leveled on Korse’s head.

“Do it, Frankie,” he whispers.

“You’re like a broken toy,” Korse sneers. “You’re weak.”

“I’m stronger than you.”

Frank pulls the trigger. Korse seems to fall in slow motion; it takes ages for his body to hit the ground. Frank stands over him, calm and stern, and fires four more shots into Korse’s lifeless chest. He finally exhales when Gerard touches his arm.

“It’s done,” Gerard says.

“Yeah.”

Gerard wants to ask if it feels good, if Frank is satisfied now, but it doesn’t matter. Frank did what he came here to do. He can sort out how he feels about it later. Gerard nods toward the screens.

“Those at the top,” he says, “they aren’t from the city.”

“That looks like… Gee, I think that one’s the diner. The _safehouse_.”

“Fuck,” Gerard breathes. “They were staking us out the whole time.”

“That must be how they found us,” Frank says. Gerard detects a note of relief in his voice. He wraps his arm around Frank’s back and touches the edge of his bandage through his shirt, reassuring himself that it’s still there. Frank passes his gun to his left hand and touches Gerard’s fingers with his right.

The basement video feed catches Gerard’s eye. “I think they need some backup.”

Frank grins manically. It’s a familiar look for heading into battle, and it does more to ease Gerard’s mind than Korse’s dead body lying three feet away. They head to the elevator.

When the doors open to the lower level, they’re met with a stream of laser fire. Gerard dodges behind a wall and shoots back blindly; he hears one body slump to the ground. Frank pops up by his side and points down the opposite hallway.

“Mikey!” Gerard shouts. “Ray?”

“We gotta get up to the lobby,” Ray calls back. “Where’s Frank?”

Frank rounds the corner and blasts another two dracs into oblivion. “Right here, motherfuckers.”

The hallway’s clear now; Frank and Gerard run to the opposite end and straight into Ray’s arms. Mikey’s huddled behind him, clutching his right shoulder. His gun hangs weakly from his hand. Gerard hugs him tight.

“I’m fine, it’s just sore,” Mikey grumbles.

“He jammed it when a drac got him on the ground,” Ray explains. “But we’re doin’ okay, we’re good. How’s… How’d it go?”

“It’s done,” Frank replies. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

They hear the heavy footsteps of another squadron of dracs, their boots slapping the floor like bursts of gunfire. Frank goes back into the hallway shooting, clearing a path to the emergency stairs.

“Let’s go.”

Gerard leads them into the stairwell. Frank darts past him, up to the top of the stairs, and Ray takes the rear, keeping his gun aimed at the closed door. More dracs meet them in the glass-walled lobby, but Frank fires indiscriminately, not even taking the time to aim, and many of his wild shots take the dracs down.

“They’re blocking the door,” Mikey shouts. “Is there another way out?”

Gerard dashes behind the security desk, quickly checking the screens for a clear exit, but with their car right outside the main entrance, leaving through the back of the building wouldn’t get them far. The noise from the gunfight is deafening, but none of the cries sound like his gang. He closes his eyes for a second and tries to focus, pull a plan out of thin air.

A clatter of equipment close by brings Gerard back to the present, though. A draculoid with a heavy laser rifle has come back behind the security desk. He doesn’t shoot at Gerard; he seems more intent on the control panel on the desk. Gerard kicks him away, sending him to his knees with a howl of pain, then shoots the fucker in the head.

“Gee, we gotta go!” Ray shouts. “Come on!”

Gerard looks up over the high desk and sees only a few dracs left standing. Mikey and Frank are already outside, blowing holes in the SUV tires and starting up the trans-am. Gerard looks back down at the desk, at what the drac was trying to find.

There’s a camera built into the desk, he realizes. He bends down and peers closely at it. On the control panel, there’s a row of buttons. Play, rewind, stop. Record. Gerard hits that one.

“Stop fucking with us,” he snarls at the camera. “We’re not playing your games anymore.”

Another drac comes around the desk before Ray can stop him. Gerard whips his gun around and clips it in the shoulder. The drac goes down, but he’s still alive. Gerard faces the camera again.

“You keep messing with us, and you’re gonna die.”

The drac slams a fist down on a big, black button. Alarms sound throughout the building, and sirens pick up from outside only a second later. Bright red and white lights flash in the lobby. Gerard looks around wildly.

“Gerard, come on,” Ray calls. “We gotta go!”

He shoots the drac one more time in the head before following Ray to the door. Mikey and Frank have the car ready and waiting, doors open and engine running, and Gerard dives into the driver’s seat as soon as Ray slides into the back, and then they’re off, speeding out of the parking lot and down the main road.

Frank watches him, quiet and patient, from the front passenger seat, and Gerard feels jittery and nervous under his intense scrutiny. He shakes out his hands and grips the wheel tightly, and before long, they’re passing through the broken-down outskirts of Battery City.

The sun peeks over the horizon just as they reach the open, empty desert, turning the sky pink and orange and chasing away the black. Gerard chances a glance over at Frank and finds him staring out the window at the sunrise and smiling.

“Hey,” he whispers.

Frank turns to him. His eyes crinkle up at the corners as his smile widens. “Hey.”

Ray leans forward, between the seats, and taps Frank’s shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Hey, Mikey, you doin’ alright?” Gerard calls. He catches a glimpse of Mikey struggling out of his jacket in the rearview mirror.

“I’m cool, just kinda sore,” Mikey replies. “Hey, so… where are we heading?”

Ray starts reaching for his map. “The nearest safehouse is—”

“We can’t go to the safehouse,” Frank cuts in. “They’re bugged.”

“That’s how Korse found us before. They put cameras in some of the safehouses. They’re probably monitoring the others, too,” Gerard adds.

“Are you serious?”

“We saw the video feeds.”

“Well, that explains how they kept finding us so fast,” Mikey mutters. “So, what do we do?”

They all look at each other, at a loss. Gerard bites the inside of his lip and turns his attention back to the road. Maybe they should leave the state, or even the country. He’s heard rumors about cities that aren’t controlled by BL/ind up north, maybe they could find refuge there, even if it meant giving up the fight. Maybe it’s time for them to settle down.

“I’ve never seen the ocean,” Frank says softly.

No one responds for a long moment. Gerard remembers the cool water lapping at his ankles, holding Mikey’s hand as they waded out. Ray leans forward again.

“We could get to the shore in like, a day. Day and a half, tops,” he says. “I haven’t been to the ocean in ages.”

“We should go,” Mikey adds. “I hardly even remember it.”

Gerard turns his hand palm-up on the gear shift. Frank stares down at it for a few long seconds, then slides his hand into Gerard’s.

“You want to?” he asks. Frank nods. Gerard waits for him to make eye contact; when he does, Frank smiles. “Let’s go to the beach.”

 

 

 _fin_.


End file.
